RESTLESS HEARTS

CHAPTER 18

•SHAWN•

I've been surviving on oatmeal and fruits since I got here. It's getting pretty exhausting eating the same stuff every day. It's not my usual cuisine, but it's how Jules survives, and I don't have much choice.

I can't fathom how she manages without a proper meal. Me? I'm so over oatmeal and fruit.

So, I decided to raid the fridge and pantry, pulling out whatever I could find. Today, I'm taking charge of lunch and maybe even dinner if I'm up for it.

With the ingredients in front of me, I sized up my options. Canned goods, some fruits and veggies from the fridge, baking stuff, pasta, and a bit of chicken mince - that's what I had to work with.

Perfect. Pasta with chicken mince it is.

I got my ingredients ready while I boiled water for the pasta. As I checked the pot on the stove, I was startled to see Jules standing there, arms crossed, glaring at the onions I was chopping.

"Hey," I greeted her, my eyes meeting hers briefly before going back to my task.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shot back.

"What does it look like? I'm cooking us some lunch."

She shot me a skeptical look. "Who said you could do that?"

I paused, the knife resting on the chopping board. 

"Seriously? I can't make my own food now?"

She gave me a long, hard stare before leaning against the wall. 

"No, but you could've poisoned it."

"With what? Expired salt?" I chuckled and went back to cooking.

She stayed put, watching me while I concentrated on the pasta. Whether she joined me or not was up to her, but there was no way I was eating another spoonful of oatmeal. I might throw up next time

Fruits are great, healthy, and all, but nothing beats real food after a while.

The pasta sauce's aroma had my mouth watering. I began picturing the lobster and medium rare steak from my favorite restaurant that I was missing. The first thing I'd do when I got back home was have breakfast, lunch, and dinner there for a whole day.

I dished up the pasta onto two plates. Jules had vanished sometime during my cooking spree. I set the plates on the small table in the middle of the room and looked around for her.

She walked in through the front door, munching on a star fruit, her eyes locked onto the food on the table.

"Are you joining me or what?"

She shrugged and flopped onto the leather couch. 

"No thanks, I'll stick to fruits. It's great for a diet, you know."

I knew she was bluffing. She wanted this as much as I did but was too stubborn to admit it. I rounded the couch, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

"Let's eat. That star fruit won't just give you a stomachache; it won't satisfy you."

I guided her to the table. 

"Noooo, I'm really not up for food poisoning," she groaned, sounding almost funny.

This woman continued to surprise me every day we lived together.

I pulled out a chair, and she reluctantly sat down. I joined her on the other side.

She frowned at the food, then at me. 

"Look, I don't mean to brag, but I'm actually a pretty decent cook, alright? You've got to start trusting me."

She narrowed her green eyes at me, as sharp as a cat's. 

"Well, I don't, and you haven't given me enough reasons to."

I nodded slowly, fully understanding her perspective. 

"I get that, but look where we are now. The only reason we've survived this long without driving each other insane is because I learned to trust you. You didn't have to provide a reason; I just figured out why things are the way they are for you."

Her sharp gaze softened as she looked at me. 

"You shouldn't have done that. You're making a big mistake by trusting me."

"Why not? Why can't I trust you?"

"I told you, I'm not your friend. Believe me, you don't want to be friends with me either."

Her voice rose a bit, and she breathed heavily when she stopped talking. Her message was crystal clear; she didn't want friendship or trust.

Noted.

At least she was willing to tolerate this because we live under the same roof.

I cleared my throat and put on a smile. "Let's eat."

We dug into our meals, and after a while, I saw her do the same. There was a long silence between us as we quietly savored our pasta, the only sound being our utensils clinking.

I waited for some reaction to the food, but there was none.

I finally looked up at her and my heart sank when I saw tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

Was our argument really that bad?

"Hey, are you alright?"

She absentmindedly twirled her fork through her pasta before letting out a sigh. Her eyes met mine.

"Don't assume anything. I'm just like this because I missed this. Food like pasta makes me miss my Mom."

Oh. That was the first time she mentioned family. Also, no one had ever indirectly complimented my cooking like that, saying it brought back sentimental memories.

This was the first time I'd seen her cry over something like this. She usually seemed composed, tense, and cold, but just a forkful of pasta had cracked her tough exterior.

It was both mesmerizing and painful to witness.

This was the first time she had let her guard down around me.

"Then I guess you won't be getting food poisoning from me."

A smile slowly spread across her face, making her look even more beautiful with her smile lighting up the room like a Christmas tree in the dark.

She was different from any woman I'd ever met, and it scared me. She was strong, bold, and incredibly complicated.

But that was my new mission now.

I would spend the next few days here, trying to uncover the real Jules who had been hiding behind a mask for too long.