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Chapter 496
Chapter 496:
Vera’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. “Wait. Are you telling me you actually made that yourself p>
“Move, Vera,” Easton said, his voice dropping to a soft but immovable command.
Vera raised her hands in surrender and stepped aside. “Alright, alright. She needs you. Go be her hero p>
Easton pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet room.
June was sitting up in bed. The heavy sedatives had worn off, leaving her eyes clear but deeply exhausted. Snowball was curled in her lap, and June was stroking the rabbit’s soft ears in a slow, rhythmic motion.
When she heard the door, she looked up.
The moment she saw Easton in his soft gray sweater, a small, fragile smile broke across her pale face — a look of pure, unguarded relief.
Easton felt a hard, physical tug in the center of his chest. He walked to the bed, pulled the chair closer, and set the thermos on the rolling tray table. He unscrewed the lid.
𝗣𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗻
A rich, deeply savory aroma immediately filled the room — slow-simmered chicken, ginger, and subtle, earthy herbs. It did not smell like a restaurant. It smelled like a home.
“My housekeeper makes it,” Easton said quietly, pouring the steaming golden broth into the small metal bowl attached to the lid. “I had her start a pot the exact moment I knew you were safe p>
June stared at the bowl. Her heart gave a sudden, painful flutter.
She looked at Easton. She looked at the bandage wrapped around his right hand — the hand he had destroyed to save her. And now, with his one good hand, he had stood in a kitchen and made her soup.
“Easton,” she whispered, her voice thick. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “You didn’t have to do this. You have a firm to run. You p>
“I wanted to,” Easton said quietly, cutting her off without urgency.
He picked up the small plastic spoon from the tray, scooped a small amount of the hot broth, and brought it to his own lips to test the temperature. Then he leaned forward and held the spoon out toward her.
“Open,” he said. His voice was incredibly soft, but it carried a weight of absolute, undeniable authority — a command to let herself be cared for.
June’s breath caught. A slow warmth crept up her neck and colored her pale cheeks.
She did not argue. She leaned forward slightly and opened her mouth.
Easton fed her the soup.
The warm liquid moved down her throat, sending a wave of deep, soothing heat through her body. It tasted extraordinary. It tasted like safety.
He scooped another spoonful, blew on it gently, and offered it to her again. He did not rush. He sat with infinite patience, his dark eyes steady on hers, feeding her until the bowl was completely empty.
June leaned back against the pillows. The hollow ache in her stomach was gone, replaced by a heavy, comforting warmth that spread through her limbs.