Chapter 503
Chapter 503
The breakfast table buzzed with a warm, cozy vibe.
The kids clutched their warm cups of milk, sipping slowly and nibbling on the heart-shaped eggs Diana had lovingly fried, their edges perfectly golden.
In front of Stanley, though, was a piece of toast with burnt edges and a yellowish center.
“Dad, your toast is burnt,” William pointed out bluntly, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
Stanley, once a titan of the business world, didn’t flinch. He calmly picked up the charred toast, took a big bite, and chewed with a crunch that echoed through the quiet dining room.
“Yeah,” Stanley said, swallowing with difficulty, his tone steady, “I like it a bit burnt. It tastes better that way.”
Diana propped her chin on one hand, watching him with amusement. Her shoulders shook slightly as she tried to suppress her laughter.
The task of taking the kids to preschool naturally fell to Stanley. After a few days of practice, he had become quite adept at packing their little backpacks, checking their water bottles for leaks, and bending down to plant a solemn kiss on each of their soft cheeks.
“Bye, Dad!”
“Be the first to pick us up this afternoon! Pinky promise!”
Watching their small figures, hand in hand, disappear into the preschool like two happy butterflies, Stanley stood tall in the morning light, lost in thought.
It wasn’t until Diana’s car slowly passed by, honking lightly, that he snapped out of it, opened his car door, and started the engine.
After a morning of lectures, Diana was just leaving the building with her lesson plans when Kenneth from her department stopped her.
“Diana, you look positively radiant. The power of love is truly amazing,” Kenneth teased, winking. “You used to be the untouchable beauty of our department. Now, you’re practically glowing with happiness.”
Diana instinctively touched her cheek, feeling a warmth creeping up to her ears. Was it really that obvious?
But she knew it herself. These past few days, she felt like she was floating on clouds, every step filled with an unreal sense of happiness.
The scenes she once only dared to dream of in the dead of night had become her warm, vibrant reality. She didn’t need to reminisce; just thinking of Stanley, who clumsily made up space stories for the kids and ate burnt toast to maintain his dignity, filled her heart with a warm, sweet fullness.
That afternoon, she finished her work early and headed home. As soon as she parked, a complex smell hit her nose—a mix of cooking aromas and a strong burnt scent, creating a new, unsettling odor.
She opened the door and was greeted by a scene she would never forget. In the bright, spacious kitchen, Stanley, in an expensive custom shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms dusted with flour, was frowning at a pan of something black and unidentifiable, as if analyzing a crashing stock market chart.
The two kids, each holding a carrot, stood on either side of him like strict supervisors.
“Dad, I think your dish is burnt again,” William said, his honesty cutting through the air.
“Black means poison. We can’t eat it,” Daniel declared, arms crossed, delivering a harsh verdict.
Hearing the door, the three in the kitchen turned to look at her. Stanley’s handsome face briefly showed a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness before he quickly regained his composure.
“You’re back,” he said, trying to sound calm amidst the chaos. “I was trying to make dinner.”
Diana put down her bag and walked over, surveying the mess on the counter and the sacrificial “dark cuisine.” Finally, she couldn’t hold back and leaned against the doorframe, laughing.
Her laughter was clear and pleasant, like wind chimes, filled with joy and tenderness, without a hint of mockery.
Stanley’s ears turned visibly red.
“Come here,” Diana beckoned, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Stanley hesitated but eventually walked over stiffly.
Diana stood on tiptoe, gently wiping a smudge of soot from his cheek with her warm fingers.
“Thank you, our great chef,” she said, her voice full of laughter, “but let me take over the kitchen. If you keep experimenting, our pots might not survive.”
That evening, Kaitlyn arrived unannounced with a bag of fresh fruit. She walked in to see the legendary business mogul quietly sitting on a small stool, peeling apples for the kids. His movements were clumsy but filled with focus and patience, making Kaitlyn pause in admiration.
Diana was busy in the open kitchen, the rich aroma of food mingling with the warmth of home, filling the house with a comforting atmosphere. The kids chattered around Stanley, eagerly sharing their day at preschool.
The almost surreal warmth of the family scene made Kaitlyn’s heart settle peacefully. She said nothing, placing the fruit on the coffee table and naturally joining Diana in the kitchen to help.
Late at night, after putting the exhausted kids to bed, Stanley and Diana stood side by side on the spacious balcony. The gentle evening breeze seemed to wash away the day’s fatigue and noise.
“My aunt seemed especially happy today,” Diana said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Stanley replied, wrapping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, savoring the scent of her hair. “I’m happy too.”
His life had once been filled with grand goals and cold numbers. Conquering, seizing, and defeating rivals were his only creeds and purpose.
But now, he realized that peeling an apple for his loved ones, eating a home-cooked meal filled with love, and sharing a quiet evening with her, watching the city lights, brought a sense of fulfillment far greater than any billion-dollar deal.