Chapter 33 Thinking about it, Irene's heart fluttered with nervousness. To her, Ms. Jansen was nice enough, but what she really wanted was Stella's care. After just a few days apart, everything felt off, and she didn't like it one bit. "Mom," Irene called softly, her voice trembling just a little. "Are you mad at me?" "No," Stella replied evenly, her expression unreadable. She knew Irene had figured out that she was upset. Otherwise, how could she have asked that? Irene rolled herself into her arms, wrapping her body around Stella's waist. "Then hug me," she murmured, pouting. Instantly, Stella's memories of caring for Irene came rushing back, and her once-cold heart softened with each whispered "Mom." "Fine." Stella exhaled a quiet sigh and held her close. This was her child, after all. If she could, she wouldn't be so cold, or push her away. Unnoticed, Irene pressed her face deeper into Stella's chest, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She knew that a little cuteness, a little pouting, would soften Stella no matter what. "Mom, I want some oatmeal," she said, letting go just enough to look up. Just as the tension between them eased, Irene made her request. Stella nodded without hesitation. "Alright, lie down for a bit. I'll go make it for you." She patted Irene's head and stood, brushing herself off. No sooner had Stella left than Irene, still wrapped in her blanket, climbed out to grab her smartwatch. She wondered what Ms. Jansen was doing-was she thinking of her? If she weren't sick, she could be playing with her. "Hello, Ms. Spencer," Downstairs, Betty spotted Stella and quickly stepped forward. "Is there anything you need me to do?" Shaking her head, Stella said softly, "No, I'm just going to make some oatmeal for Irene." "Oh..." Betty's face fell, hesitant. "Ever since you left Lloyd Villa, no one's been ordering the ingredients. I'm afraid we can't make it now." It wasn't just any oatmeal. It required several premium ingredients Betty couldn't source herself. Stella had always handled that herself, paying for them out of her own pocket. "Then keep it simple," Stella said calmly, stepping past her. "It's just oatmeal. No need to overthink it." Even as she softened toward Irene, the emotional wounds she carried didn't vanish so easily. Each shout, each scowl from Irene, had pierced Stella's heart like needles. Only time could dull the sting. Ignoring the frozen Betty, Stella walked toward the kitchen. 1/3 SITIKA WAS not une saBLIC AN OCIone anymore, Simple oatmeal wasn't difficult to make. It took Stella no more than five minutes. Carrying the steaming bowl. Stella climbed the stairs. Just as she reached the door, the sound of cheerful chatter floated out from inside. "Ms. Jansen, how could you go out and eat without me?" Irene pouted. "Don't worry, Irene," the other side on the phone replied. "I'll take you too when you feel better, okay?" Irene, who had been sulking, lit up immediately. "Okay! You promise me!" "Of course, I promise," said Sylvia. "By the way, have you eaten? If not, I can have someone bring you some now." Irene wanted to answer yes, but she remembered her mom was cooking for her. She looked down, disappointed. "Never mind, Mom's making me oatmeal," she replied. "I'd love you to bring me something, but if Mom finds out, she'll get upset." She wasn't worried about Stella. She was just afraid of the fuss if she found out. Normally, Irene wouldn't care, but after Stella had been angry earlier, she decided it was best to behave for a couple of days. Once she regained her spot, she could throw a tantrum however she wanted. Little did she know, Stella, standing outside the door, listened without changing expression. Should she feel relieved? Stella asked herself. Her heart didn't soften just because Irene acted cute. She sighed quietly, but feeling only sorrow, for herself and for Irene. After standing there so long that her legs went numb, the conversation inside finally wound down. Irene reluctantly said goodbye, hid her smartwatch, and lay back down. Stella entered with the oatmeal, holding it carefully. "The oatmeal's ready. Come eat," she said, pretending nothing had happened. Irene glanced at her nervously, unsure if she had noticed her call with Sylvia. Seeing Stella's expression unchanged, she breathed a sigh of relief and climbed out from the bed. "Mom, your oatmeal smells so good!" Feeling guilty, she praised it even before taking a bite. Stella's lips twitched in the hint of a sarcastic smile. She knew Irene was picky, used to having her meals prepared perfectly. Stella had always gone the extra mile to ensure she enjoyed delicious food-even learning from chefs if necessary. If it had been plain oatmeal before, Irene would have started fussing the moment she smelled it, let alone calling it delicious. "Then eat up," Stella replied calmly. Irene picked up her spoon. Though to her, Stella's oatmeal couldn't compare to what Sylvia might bring, she was hungry 2/3 enough to eat a little. But after the first bite, her face scrunched up. She spat it out. "Yuck! Why doesn't it taste like it used to?" she frowned. "You don't like it?" Stella raised an eyebrow, curious. "No, it's tasteless," said Irene. "Totally gross." "But you just said it smelled good," replied Stella. Irene fell silent, unsure how to respond, then pouted. "I don't care. I don't want this gross oatmeal. I want the tasty one from before." Truly, Irene could turn on a dime, thought Stella. Every time she felt she had a chance, Irene's actions shattered it, resetting all expectations. E AD Comment Send gift No Ads