You Hit My Heart (Joyce and Luther) novel Chapter 1278

Joyce took a nap after the spa.

When I woke up, it was noon.

Luther was not around, she sat up from the bed and suddenly felt a little lost, and then she shook her head off.

How can you expect him to be by her side all the time? The brain is really burnt out.

A thermos was thoughtfully placed by the bed, and she took a few sips to moisten her throat.

Putting on a coat, she went out of the room and went to the first floor.

I didn't eat much for breakfast and felt a little hungry. It was almost noon, and Ivy was nowhere to be seen, and no lunch was prepared?

A little confused, she walked into the kitchen only to find Luther standing at the guide table, his back turned to the sink, and wondering what he was doing.

"What are you doing in the kitchen?"

She made a sudden sound behind her back, and Luther, who had been concentrating, was startled when the sharp blade cut across his index finger, cutting through a gash.

He frowned and hurriedly dropped the knife in his hand.

Joyce walked over to him and found that he had cut his finger and blood was coming out.

She exclaimed, " my God, you cut your finger! What are you doing in the kitchen and where's Ivy?"

With a low curse, she hurriedly retrieved the medical kit from the living room.

Step forward, grab his hand and rinse it off first against the faucet.

"Ivy, I sent her to buy sturgeon, the market is a bit far, so she's not back yet." He drew back his hand, "It's okay, just a little scratch. It's not a deep cut."

Joyce gave him a slight glare and yanked his hand over, "Even a small injury needs to be taken care of."

She craned her head suspiciously to look at Luther.

"You did this?"

"Hmm. You are sick, I see you barely eat anything in the morning, I thought you must have no appetite, so made a simple porridge. I was going to make a few more dishes, but the missing ingredients Ivy ingredients haven't been bought back yet." He pointed to the stove top, just now when he prepared the ingredients, cut to the hand.

Simple? There's nothing simple about it, Joyce thought.

"That's enough. No need to cook, there's enough to eat."

She took a bowl, a white porcelain spoon and scratched through the thick porridge, and scooped a bowl for herself, and a bowl for him at the same time.

The aroma was tantalizing, and sitting at the table, she took a bite.

The delicate and lubricious taste, even if there is no appetite, you can still taste the fresh taste. Suddenly, her heart was clogged with unspoken feelings gradually diffused.