Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1673

Mia stared in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? You want me to cook?”

Henry blinked up at her, looking as sweet as ever. “Yep, Mommy, I just can’t go on anymore~”

Mia: “……”

That evening, on his way home from work, Andre swung by his favorite street vendor and grabbed a box of cold noodles. He set the takeout on the passenger seat and drove the rest of the way home, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Sometimes, it was the little things that made life feel just right.

Maplewood Estates.

In the yard, Henry ran wild, using his water gun to “water” every flower, bush, and tree he could reach.

“Henry, what are you up to?” Andre called out.

Henry spun around. “Dad!” He bolted over, hugging his toy gun tight, and reached up with his other hand, asking to be picked up.

Andre leaned down, scooped him up, handed the water gun off to the housekeeper, and grabbed the takeout from the car. All in a day’s work.

As Andre carried the food inside, Henry’s eyes went wide with excitement. That little rascal cupped his dad’s face, puckered up, and kissed his cheek, then flashed a huge, messy grin. “Daddy, your little dude loves you~”

Andre laughed so hard his eyes crinkled. “Hey, what happened to ‘Daddy’s treasure’?”

“Treasure is Henry, little dude is Henry—Henry loves Daddy the most, always.”

With these two around, Andre’s heart felt soft and warm every single day.

Mia replayed Henry’s words in her head. Suddenly, she was fired up. “Henry! Who exactly did you inherit that from? Say it clearly!”

Henry, always quick on his feet, grabbed his toy and scurried from one end of the table to the other—safely out of Mom’s reach.

He was so pleased with himself, grinning with a mouthful of noodles, his cheeks and chin already smeared with sauce.

Mia kept going. “Try teaching him to write—he pouts and argues. Try phonics—he just scribbles all over the book. After five minutes, he’s dragged half his toys out of the playroom. Fill up the kiddie pool, and he wants to play with the faucet all day. I catch him and scold him, he gets a spanking.

The lawn sprinklers turn on, and what does he do? Stomps right on the sprinkler head, gets himself soaked, then comes running in for a change of clothes. I get him into something dry, and not even a minute later, he’s drenched again and back for another change.

I try explaining that the trees and flowers need water to grow—at least he remembers that part. Then, oh! By the way, babe, your water bottle still isn’t washed. Just remembered I needed to tell you that.”