When did she move here?
Was it because of Tate?
A vague thought started forming in my mind.
In the elevator, Tate stood with his back to me, silent and still sulking.
I originally planned to cook something he liked to cheer him up, but then I noticed the denim jacket he was wearing—it looked just like the one Siena had given him. Suddenly, I didn't feel like doing anything.
In the end, I just made some quick pasta to fill my stomach.
While eating, Tate kept sneaking glances at me, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't.
I pretended not to notice.
He pressed his lips together, got up to clear the dishes, and even mopped the floor on the way.
I kept a straight face while watching a movie on the couch.
He clumsily cut up a mango, placed it on the coffee table in front of me, and then sat down beside me.
"Curvy Goddess, want some fruit?" he asked softly.
"No."
He paused, then lowered his voice to coax me, "How about I feed you?"
I didn't say yes or no.
He picked up the fruit plate, speared a piece of mango, and brought it to my mouth.
I reluctantly took a bite.
Not bad, it's pretty sweet.
Two bites, three bites.
Out of nowhere, I said, "Don't you know I'm allergic to mango?"
Panic flashed across Tate's face. He shot up from the couch, set the fruit plate down, and tried to pull me to the hospital.
"Kidding, haha."
Tate was momentarily stunned. He first sighed in relief, but his expression quickly turned sour.
Now it was my turn to feel guilty and try to console him.
I whispered, "I'm sorry."
He remained unmoved.
"Roe, RoeRoe, sweetie..." I leaned closer to him, "Don't be mad at me, let's make up..."
He turned his head to glance at me.
Then he lowered himself so that his face was at the same level as mine.
I hesitated for a moment but then wisely leaned in to press my cheek against his.
It took quite an effort, but his expression finally started to soften, just as the movie showed a scene where the male and female leads kissed.
Tate watched intently and asked me, "What are they doing?"
I felt a bit awkward and explained vaguely, "Oh, they're kissing." Oh.
He suddenly leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. "Like this?"
His eyes were full of innocence.
……
Why is he getting better at flirting now that he's become less intelligent?
I opened my mouth to say something but realized I couldn't bring myself to scold him.
I've fallen!
Before bed, Tate tugged at my clothes, taking it a step further by asking for a bedtime story.
I was speechless. "Where did you even learn that?"
Tate said, "The kids in the movies, their moms always tell them stories and hug them before bed so they don't have nightmares."
"Did you have a nightmare?"
He nodded and looked at me. "I dreamed that I was texting you downstairs, waiting for a long time, but you didn't reply. Then a flower pot fell from above and hit my head, and everything went dark with blood..."
I felt a chill run down my spine as I listened. So, this incident really left such a deep scar on him...
To comfort this poor thing, I told him a heartwarming fairy tale and gave him a hug full of affection.
His bangs fell over his forehead, making him look extremely docile.
Just as my maternal instincts were in overdrive, Tate grabbed my hand and said, "And a goodnight kiss."
I could feel my cheeks heating up.
This isn't a good sign.
He was holding my hand, asking for a kiss.
And somehow, I was a bit shy.
I mean, this guy's mental age is only eight right now!
Realizing my state was a bit dangerous, I firmly refused, "No way."
"Why not?"
"You can't just go around kissing people, you know?"
His tone was a bit tense, "I'm not just going around."
"Not just going around?" I huffed, pulling my hand away and heading back to my room.
……
...Maybe this is fate.
