Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 742

He was right; he clearly couldn't hold a spoon.

“Then never mind.” Stewart lowered his hand. “I won’t eat. You should go get some rest.”

Briony stared at him. “Stewart, you’re playing the victim.”

Caught, Stewart looked down and cleared his throat awkwardly. “You saw right through me.”

Briony’s lips thinned. After a moment of silence, she sighed. “Fine. You’re still on anti-inflammatories, so you should eat something.”

At her words, Stewart’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Sit down,” Briony urged. “I’ll feed you.”

Stewart’s brow twitched. He could hardly believe she was actually going to feed him. He immediately walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Briony picked up the bowl of plain porridge, scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to his lips.

Stewart instantly leaned forward to take it—

Briony’s brow furrowed, and she quickly pulled the spoon back.

The man paused, looking at her in confusion.

“You need to blow on it first,” she scolded gently. “This was just made; it’s very hot.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Alright.”

Briony didn’t know what he found so funny. She shot him a look before offering the spoon again. This time, Stewart’s dark eyes never left her face as he opened his mouth, blew on the porridge as she’d instructed, and then finally accepted the spoonful.

At thirty-four years old, he had never imagined he would experience such treatment in his lifetime. Pride and dignity seemed unimportant now. To be fed by Bryn herself was a moment so precious that, for Stewart, it felt like he could die without regrets.

Briony tried to avoid his gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the bowl and spoon, working like an assembly-line worker as she fed him mouthful after mouthful of porridge.

Soon, the bowl was empty.

Briony let out a quiet sigh of relief. She placed the empty bowl back on the tray, picked it up, and shot him a quick glance. “Get some rest.”

She was about to leave when the man behind her spoke again. “I haven’t washed up yet.”

Briony paused and turned to look at the perfectly composed man, raising an eyebrow. “Stewart, you don’t expect me to brush your teeth for you, do you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, a smile in his eyes. “I was just wondering if you have any mouthwash.”

“I’ll have Marlene bring some up for you.”

“Okay.”

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