Chapter 161

Chapter 161
Elena's POV

"You stand there in your fancy suit, not even helping, and you have the nerve to lose your temper?" I hissed. "Are you trying to make sure the kids go hungry?"

Richard's expression grew even colder. "I have a temper? You're the one too stupid to handle this simple task."

"And running to another man for help?" he added with a sneer.

I couldn't take it anymore. I flung the small trowel at his feet.

"Fine! You're so smart—you do it!" I challenged. "Stop standing there like some statue."

I meant it as a provocation, never expecting him to actually respond. To my absolute shock, Richard began removing his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

My jaw dropped. Even Lily and Kathy stared in wide-eyed disbelief.

Is Dad actually going to get his hands dirty? their expressions seemed to say as they simultaneously stepped back, making room for this miracle.

When Richard knelt down and touched the soil, his handsome eyebrows immediately furrowed in disgust. He couldn't suppress a grimace as the earth clung to his manicured fingers.

I knew his obsession with cleanliness—this was torture for a man accustomed to pristine corporate environments. My anger began to dissolve.

"I was just kidding," I said, softening my tone. "Get up, I'll do it."

I reached for the trowel, ready to take over.

To my surprise, Richard merely gave me a cold look and remained firmly committed to the task. His stubbornness was both infuriating and oddly impressive.

"This is awesome!" Lily clapped her hands in delight. "Dad's planting seeds! Dad, can we plant together?"

Kathy crouched down by the edge, holding out the seed pouch to her father. "For you, Dad."

Something shifted in Richard's expression as he accepted the pouch from his daughter—a flicker of unexpected pleasure at their approval.

I must be seeing things.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. For all his faults, Richard's commitment to his children was undeniable.

I knelt beside him, ready to plant seeds together. Before I could begin, Richard had already created a perfect furrow and placed seeds at ideal intervals.

"Dad, that's amazing!" Lily exclaimed. "How did you do it so perfectly?"

Richard shot me a smug look. "Because I'm not your mother? I actually know how to use my senses."

I nearly hurled the trowel at his face this time, barely containing my temper.

As it turned out, Richard's precision was extraordinary. He quickly mastered the technique for planting the wheat seeds.

After watching me fumble for the tenth time, Richard snatched the trowel from my hands with evident disgust.

"Move aside," he ordered. "Go help the children prepare the next row."

With my pride wounded but unable to argue with his superior results, I retreated to join the children.

"Finally!" Lily exclaimed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "We're done!"

The midday sun beat down mercilessly as we just finished our morning task.

"Mom, I'm starving!" Lily tugged at my sleeve. "Can we eat now?"

"Not yet, sweetheart," I explained, smoothing Lily's tangled hair. "We need to take our task card to the farm owner first. They'll exchange it for lunch ingredients."

I looked at my dirt-covered children and laughed. Lily resembled a mud monster more than a little girl, having enthusiastically dived into every aspect of planting.

"But before anything else, let's get you cleaned up," I hoisted Lily out of the dirt patch. "Come on, I saw a stream nearby."

When we reached the stream, I gasped at its crystal clarity. The water bubbled over smooth stones, cool and inviting after our hard work.

"Okay, shoes off," I instructed, helping Lily with her laces. "Just dip your hands and feet in to wash off the worst of it."

I had barely helped Lily roll up her pants when I caught a familiar scent carried by the breeze. My spine stiffened instinctively.

Richard approached from upstream, practically dragging a reluctant Kathy behind him. His once-pristine pants were now splattered with mud, and his expensive leather shoes looked ruined. The expression on his face could only be described as murderous.

"Dad, I don't need washing!" Kathy whined, tugging against his grip. "I'm not dirty! You're the one who's all messy!"

Richard's gaze traveled down to his mud-caked shoes and soaked socks. His handsome face twisted with disgust as if he'd stepped in something particularly offensive.

"What's wrong?" I asked, unable to resist. "Having second thoughts about those fancy shoes?"

His eyes snapped to mine, cold and irritated. "Would you want to wear these?" he shot back.

I couldn't help but smile. If he only knew. During those years with the twins, I'd worn far worse—shoes patched with duct tape, clothes washed by hand until they frayed. A little mud would have been the least of my worries.

"Actually, I would," I said softly. "These are already clean compared to what I've worn."

Richard's eyebrow arched slightly, a flicker of something crossing his face before disappearing behind his usual mask of indifference.

I sighed, watching him struggle with his obvious discomfort. "Here, sit down. I'll help you clean up."

He looked at me like I'd suggested he jump off a cliff.

"Come on," I coaxed, my voice softening to the tone I used with stubborn children. "Just sit on that rock, and I'll take care of it."

Richard hesitated, then grudgingly sat on the flat stone I'd indicated. His movements were stiff, his pride clearly wounded at needing help.

I knelt before him, reaching for his foot. "I have disposable socks in my bag. You can wear these until we get to town and find you proper replacements."

"Why would you carry disposable socks?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity as the cool stream water rushed over his feet.

I worked methodically, my fingers gentle but efficient as I washed away the mud from his ankles. "It's just common sense when you have kids. I learned to always be prepared for anything."

I was acutely aware of how intimate this moment was—my hands cradling his foot, despite the cold water, his skin warm against my fingers. Something shifted in the air between us.

"During those years," I continued softly, "I learned a lot of survival tricks. When you're alone with two children in a foreign territory, you adapt quickly."

My thumbs worked carefully between his toes, removing every speck of dirt.

Richard fell silent, his eyes fixed on my hands. I could feel his gaze burning into me, his breathing slightly altered.

Something was happening to him—to us—in this moment.

Then a sharp voice shattered the moment.