Zane Hawthorne contacted security, who brought the takeout inside.
Only then did Zoe Rhodes realize that was even an option.
At the dining table, the two of them sat facing each other.
Zane Hawthorne opened the takeout container, mixed the noodles, and placed it in front of her. "Just have a little. It's too late, so it'll be hard to digest."
Zoe Rhodes mumbled a quiet "oh," clearly distracted.
From Zane Hawthorne's perspective, her head was nearly buried in the bowl.
Seeing that she still hadn't touched her chopsticks, Zane Hawthorne sighed in resignation, starting to regret what he had said.
'She can't even accept this. If she knew what I was like in my teens... she'd probably tear up and chew me out.'
Zane Hawthorne didn't dare to even imagine it.
"I'm sorry."
He apologized abruptly. Zoe Rhodes's hand, holding her chopsticks, froze. She looked up, bewildered. "What's wrong?"
"I shouldn't have made a joke like that just now."
