Titus Zane fell ill again, confining himself in his room and barely eating any food.
In the morning, Olivia Zane served Nathan Moore some millet porridge, placed a spoon in the bowl, then casually asked.
"Nathan, did you come back very late last night? Why didn't sister come down for breakfast?"
Nathan Moore glanced subtly at the position of the stairs, where no one was around.
He averted his gaze back to the porridge and stirred it gently with the spoon, uttering a faint "Hmm".
Remembering Titus Zane's tears, Nathan Moore furrowed his handsome brows, now finally convinced that women are made of water, otherwise, how could there be so many tears that neither wiping nor gentle kisses could end.
"Nathan, what's wrong? Are you not happy?" Seeing Nathan Moore's indifferent response, Olivia Zane widened her eyes in confusion.
Nathan Moore looked up, his thin lips curving slightly.
"No, just a bit tired."
