Chapter 190 Promise Me Three Requests
Gabriel looked puzzled. "Did you make this?"
Looking at the takeout containers, it appeared to be delivered food.
The space was small enough that even though they were in different areas, they could still talk at normal volume.
Arabella opened the fridge to look for ingredients, planning to make herself some pasta, while answering, "What you're eating was takeout Ella ordered. I was playing with the kids this morning and didn't have time to cook."
Speaking of the children, Gabriel asked, "Are they asleep?"
"Yes, they're upstairs in the loft."
"They can roll over now—did you put up anything to keep them safe?"
"The bed... it's just a floor mattress. They can't fall."
Because of the limited space in the apartment, the loft was simply furnished, with mattresses laid directly on the floor.
Gabriel understood immediately.
Many lofts had this kind of layout.
Arabella had been living here for a while now and had gradually gotten the hang of cooking, quickly preparing a bowl of pasta.
With limited space and few surfaces, she could only set her bowl on the small coffee table in front of the sofa, across from Gabriel.
Gabriel had already finished eating. Looking up at the pasta she brought out, his expression showed mild surprise. "I didn't know you could cook."
"I'm just a girl from a working-class family. Cooking isn't anything special," she replied flatly, pulling over a low stool to sit across from him.
Worried the children would wake up soon and she'd lose her chance to eat, Arabella didn't bother with small talk and focused on her pasta.
Watching her eat so quietly and intently stirred something restless in Gabriel's chest.
He'd already set down his fork, but picked it up again to take some pasta from her bowl.
Arabella startled again, looking up with wide eyes. "Are you... still hungry?"
"No," he replied, waiting until he'd taken a bite before continuing. "We've been married, but I've never tasted your cooking. I was curious."
Arabella was stunned.
After chewing thoughtfully, he gave his serious assessment, "Not bad. Though if you'd cooked the pasta a bit longer, it would be even better."
Arabella didn't know how to respond, her expression clearly exasperated.
After his criticism, Gabriel reached for another bite. "If only we weren't getting divorced—then I could enjoy your cooking more often."
At those words, Arabella felt a sudden impulse and responded, "I actually made you pasta for your birthday before, but in our two years together, you weren't home for either of your birthdays."
Even then, she'd known she had no right to celebrate his birthday with him.
The person who was with him—she didn't need to guess who that was. Emily.
Gabriel's fork froze mid-bite. He looked up, surprise and regret flooding his dark eyes.
The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. He had nothing to say—any explanation would be futile in the face of facts.
He couldn't even remember how many years he'd spent his birthdays with Emily and Dominic, sometimes with other friends too.
The habit had become so ingrained that even after marriage, he'd never thought to change it.
Probably because he truly didn't love her then, so subconsciously he simply didn't care, completely overlooking it.
"I'm sorry..." After a long silence, Gabriel didn't know what else to say besides apologizing.
Arabella, however, was remarkably calm and composed.
She smiled faintly, lowering her gaze as she continued eating. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's all in the past."
But precisely because it was in the past—beyond his power to change or make amends for—he felt even sorrier, felt like a complete bastard.
When she'd nearly finished her pasta and Gabriel remained silent, Arabella sensed his remorse was genuine. She adopted a magnanimous tone, "If you really feel sorry for me, then sign the divorce papers. That would be the best compensation you could give me."
Gabriel straightened up, his handsome face scrutinizing her as he looked at the smile playing at her lips. "Is this what you wanted to discuss when you contacted me?"
Arabella finished eating and set down her utensils, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "No, the divorce is definitely happening—that won't change. I wanted to discuss whether we could co-parent the children. After the divorce, whenever I'm free, could I visit them anytime, not just during the scheduled times?"
Gabriel leaned back against the sofa, his relaxed posture somehow managing to seem predatory and intimidating, making Arabella instantly tense.
Staring at her intently for a moment, he frowned slightly. "Why the sudden change of heart? Are you planning to fight me for custody later?"
Truth was, Gabriel desperately wanted her to have more contact with the children—it would inevitably mean more contact with him.
But he couldn't agree too readily. At the very least, he needed to negotiate some terms.
Sure enough, hearing his words made Arabella more anxious, and she hurried to explain, "I don't want to fight for custody—I couldn't win against you anyway. I just want to spend more time with them. Childhood only happens once. If I miss it, it's gone forever."
"You really mean that?"
"Of course!"
He smiled slightly, his expression relaxing. "I thought maybe earning a little money had made you think you could take on the impossible."
Arabella looked embarrassed, pressing her lips together.
She had indeed made some money, but it hadn't gone to her head.
When Gabriel didn't respond, Arabella's confidence wavered. After a moment of silence, she gathered her courage and asked, "Do you think it's possible?"
Gabriel's brow furrowed deeper, his striking features taking on a serious, cold expression, as if he were very troubled.
Seeing this, Arabella pretty much had her answer, disappointment creeping into her beautiful eyes.
"It's not impossible, but—you'd have to agree to three conditions." Suddenly, the man who'd been silent for so long spoke quietly.
Arabella's eyes immediately snapped up, the disappointment fading as she looked at him with hesitant concern. "Three conditions?"
That sounded like a lot.
But for the chance to spend more time with the children, she was willing to try.
"Let me... hear what they are."
Gabriel had been building up to this moment all along.
He was a businessman, and businessmen weighed costs and benefits in everything, always looking for an angle.
"First condition: You move out of here." Gabriel's gaze swept around the space, his tone deeply dissatisfied. "This place is too small and cluttered. If you want to have the children visit regularly, it's not safe here."
Arabella had expected something much more difficult—who knew it would be this.
She agreed without much hesitation, "Fine, I'll find another place and move out as soon as possible."
Actually, once they'd hired Mark for the studio, she'd realized living here wasn't practical anymore.
And truthfully, Gabriel made this demand because he knew these two women had hired a male photographer as an assistant.
Did she have no idea how attractive she was? Working with a man was one thing, but sleeping here too—who knew what perverted thoughts that young guy was having!
"Second condition: you accept the inheritance my grandfather left you. That way you can buy your own place."
Gabriel's intention with this condition was that with money, she wouldn't need to take on modeling jobs anymore. She could hire people to handle things while she worked behind the scenes on planning and strategy.