Chapter 49 Reading the Novel
Chapter 49 Reading the Novel
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An awkward silence filled the air. Freya calmly pretended nothing had happened as she placed the piece of ginger into the waste container on the table. “I was just picking the ginger out.”
“Actually, a little dark circle isn’t a big deal,” Louis offered sincerely.
“How could it not be? A person’s life only lasts a little over thirty thousand days–maybe even less. And at most, you’re only truly beautiful for seven or eight thousand of them. Every single one of those days should be treasured. Otherwise, once time’s gone, it never comes back.” Freya said this with a tone of solemn despair.
Louis: “… Whatever you say.”
Even so, he still pushed the stir–fried shredded potatoes–Freya’s favorite–closer to her. If she hadn’t cut the ginger into long strips just slightly thicker than the potatoes, how would she have mixed them up in the first place?
Freya stuck to the dishes right in front of her and absolutely refused to reach across the table again. No way I’m embarrassing myself twice.
After dinner, Freya stood to clear the bowls, but Louis stopped her. “I’ll do it today.”
“No need, I can handle it.”
“You can’t even see clearly. Better let me do it.” But before he could pick up the bowls, Freya had already ripped the eye masks off her face in one swift motion.
“It’s fine. They’re ready to come off anyway.”
She took the bowls from Louis with traces of serum still glistening under her eyes and hurried off to the kitchen. Louis chuckled silently and shook his head, deciding not to argue. As he passed through the living room, he noticed the open laptop on the coffee table with a document still up. On a whim, he went over to see what Freya had been writing.
When Freya finished cleaning up and came out of the kitchen, she was greeted by a horrifying sight: Louis sitting elegantly on the couch, casually rolling up the sleeves of his gray sweater, resting his elbow on his knee with his hand against his cheek -intently reading her novel.
Dear god!
She practically launched herself across the room, slamming her hands over the laptop screen with lightning speed. “Don’t look!”
Her novels were either modern romance, historical romance, or wildly imaginative fantasy. She wouldn’t even let her best friends read them–worried they’d call her weird. Letting Louis, of all people, see them? Absolutely mortifying. She’d never survive it!
“Why not?” Louis had only gotten through a few pages but already found it amusing.
Freya gave him a look that screamed I can’t believe you’re seriously asking that, her eyes wide like a startled kitten. “It’s my work! How can you just read it without asking? I don’t want anyone to know what I’m writing! And most importantly–it’s meant for girls!”
“….Alright, I won’t read it.” Louis resisted the sudden urge to pat her on the head. He stood and moved aside.
As Freya sat back down, wondering if she’d overreacted, Louis stopped at his bedroom door, turned slightly, and casually added:
“Honestly, I think it’s a bit unrealistic for the male lead to keep ditching work to spend time with the female lead. If he’s a company CEO, he wouldn’t have that kind of time.”
Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaving Freya frozen on the spot.
Louis read at least two chapters. And they were the most over–the–top, cringiest ones.
