Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours! - Chapter 457

Chapter 457: Cottage Dinner II

“How do you like the food? What do you think?”

Athena’s tongue approved of the dish she was eating—the way the flavors melded together, the way it was made with so much intention, so much care, so much… love. But her mind was in turmoil, tangled between memories and present emotion, holding her speech captive.

Ewan, misreading her silence, dropped his cutlery on the table slowly, the faint clatter loud in the otherwise soft, candlelit air. His smile slipped as fast as a startled deer. “That bad?”

The uncertainty on his face—the worried crease on his brow, the subtle tightening at the corner of his lips—had Athena smiling, a genuine one, because anything less would have tipped Ewan that something was really wrong with his food. When in fact, the opposite was true.

The only thing wrong was that she could get used to eating his food on a daily basis.

It reminded her of someone—her first mother. She swallowed, lifted the cup of water beside her plate, and took a long sip to compose herself.

“I’m just thirsty, Ewan. Calm down.”

She laughed when she noticed that he still watched her with furrowed brows, suspicion and worry blending adorably on his face. “Wine sometimes doesn’t cut it,” she added, reading the unspoken question in his gaze.

“You cook well,” she said next, winking playfully, immediately setting him at ease.

Ewan’s shoulders relaxed. He smiled, almost shyly, the tension melting away from his face.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Athena went on, her fork hovering above her plate. “Have you always cooked?”

Pleased that everything was right again, Ewan grabbed his cutlery and dove back into his meal. “Not really,” he admitted, his voice lighter. “I learned later, from the best there is—months before the end of our marriage.”

Athena sighed wistfully, picking another forkful of the meal and sinking it into her mouth.

The explosion of flavors made her pause mid-chew. The tenderness of the meat, the delicate sauce that coated her tongue—it was like an orchestra of spice and warmth, balanced and deliberate. The faint taste of rosemary lingered on her tongue, carried by buttery richness, and when the tang of pepper danced at the back of her throat, she couldn’t help the soft hum that escaped her lips.

“This is really good, Ewan…” she murmured, nodding slowly, eyes glinting with reluctant admiration. “Whoever had taught you should get his flowers.”

Ewan chuckled, amused. “How do you know it’s a he?”

Athena’s brow pinched together, fork midway to her mouth. “It’s a she?”

Ewan shook his head, smiling. “Don’t worry… I was just teasing you.” He leaned back a little, fork between his fingers, eyes warm. “But really, I took an interest in cooking when I stumbled upon your notes… your journal or thereabout.”

Athena froze.

To say she was short of words was an understatement. She opened her mouth, then shut it again, words and intention slipping away like sand through fingers.

Did he just say what she thought he said?

Her heartbeat faltered. How interested had Ewan been during their cold marriage—and she hadn’t noticed? Would it have made any difference if she had?

She didn’t think so. The last straw had simply been the last straw.

“First was the toasted bread.”

Athena smiled at that, a soft, almost rueful smile. “The children wouldn’t shut up about it. Maybe you can make it tomorrow during breakfast. I’d love to see what my student comes up with.”

Ewan laughed—a full, deep sound that tugged at something buried in her heart.

She inhaled slowly, smiling faintly, and exhaled just the same, grounding herself in the easy, peaceful air between them. She continued her meal quietly, distinctly hearing Ewan promise that he would do as she asked.

From there, they talked. About the children, their school, about matters related to the Grey, ideas, suggestions. It was such a beautiful, open dinner that Athena didn’t notice when her plate emptied, until the soft scraping of her fork against porcelain startled her.

Ewan’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Maybe we do this next time? I only made two servings, really… seeing as you were coming back from a date.”

Athena snorted softly, hand on her belly. Registering at a gym was beginning to look like a necessary option with the amount of sugar and calories she’d been consuming lately.

But where was the time for that? She could start with home workouts, though even the thought made her sigh.

“What are you thinking about?” Ewan asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Enrolling into a gym,” she answered without thinking, rubbing her stomach gently.

“You can enroll in mine.”

Athena rolled her eyes. “I haven’t the strength for that. Nor the time.”

“Maybe after this chaos with the Grey disease then…”

As he spoke, he rose from his chair and began clearing the table.

Courtesy wouldn’t let Athena sit still. She stood as well, ignoring his insistence that she should stay seated because she was his guest.

“I thought this was a celebratory dinner for both of us,” she said lightly, stacking utensils and plates. “You cooked. Let me do the washing.”

But Ewan didn’t agree. “That would be irony—a displacement,” he argued, half-laughing. “Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look gorgeous, so much so that it wouldn’t look right washing dishes.”

Athena scoffed, getting rid of her heels anyway, already picking up the sponge. “You can’t stop me either way. Besides, it’s just us here.”

Ewan gave up after another failed attempt, sighing dramatically. He settled on rinsing the dishes and arranging them in the rack while Athena washed.

As she worked, she noted how spotless the kitchen already was. He cleans as he cooks, she mused silently, handing him another plate.

Their fingers brushed.

A spark shot up her arm, quick and sharp. Goosebumps raced across her skin, her pulse skipping wildly. She stifled a curse under her breath, blinking fast.

This was bad territory.

She washed faster, more vigorously now, eager to finish before she did something stupid—like let her heart run ahead of her mind.

Moments later, after the last dish was set aside, after hands were dried and laughter shared about a ridiculous rumor circulating in town about a famous actor, they drifted naturally toward the living room.

“I have one of his movies here even,” Ewan said, half-grinning as he moved to the entertainment shelf.

Athena’s eyes found the clock. Just over two o’clock. She should be heading home.

But when Ewan handed her a large cup of popcorn and gestured toward the sofa, she hesitated only a second before accepting. She sank into the couch, pulling the throw pillow to her lap.

This was a birthday celebration—hers. She might as well enjoy it, might as well stay a little longer in this world where things felt right, before reality came clawing back.

The scent of warm butter drifted from the bowl as she reached for a handful. When she tasted it, her eyes widened slightly—the perfect balance of salt and sweetness, the crisp crackle that melted on her tongue. It was homemade. It had to be.

“Oh my…” The small moan slipped out before she could stop it, and she bit her lower lip too late, cheeks coloring when Ewan turned sharply toward her.

“That good?” he asked, but his tone was low, his eyes darker than before, the air between them suddenly charged.

Athena’s throat felt dry. She could see the heat in his gaze and wondered if it was reflected in hers. Her body remembered his touch, craved it in a way her mind refused to acknowledge.

“Yeah,” she managed, voice soft but steady. “You’ll be doing the honors from henceforth when we have Friday movie nights. The kids would love this.”

She all but buried her face in the popcorn after that, pretending intense focus on the screen as the opening scene fluttered to life.