I was starting to feel increasingly unwell, shivering as a chill set in.

I quickly took a couple of cold medicine tablets and wrapped myself in a blanket, collapsing onto the sofa.

Her words kept echoing in my mind, "He's just a rough laborer."

I was fuming!

Who was born to do rough work?

Who was born knowing how to fix faucets, repair lights, or handle gas stoves?

Weren't we all our parents' precious darlings?

Back in college, my parents worried whether I could manage on my own.

I didn't even know there were different types of light bulbs—incandescent, fluorescent, energy-saving, LED.

I didn't know faucets came in various models or what tools like wrenches, pliers, or screwdrivers were for.

I learned all of this after meeting Scarlett.

As a man, I was expected to hold up a household, and knowing how to do basic repairs was just part of it.

But Scarlett seemed to think I was born to do these things, naturally cut out for rough work.

"Gabriel, wake up, wake up..."

I was jolted awake by a series of shakes, looking outside to see the sky cloaked in darkness.

"Do you really have the heart to let me go hungry?" Scarlett said, her voice filled with a pitiful tone.

"Scarlett, take a good look at me, do you notice anything different from usual?"

"You look particularly handsome today."

"Really?" I forced a smile, though feeling a sense of desolation within.

Entering my exclusive kitchen, I started preparing dinner.

In the five years we had been together, I could immediately sense any slight discomfort in her body, often nipping illnesses in the bud.

Now, I was covered in sweat, with my t-shirt soaked through, my face flushed, and walking as light as a feather, but she couldn't discern that I was sick.

Suddenly, a phrase came to mind. "When the heart is not with you, even if you lose a hand, she or he wouldn't notice."

After dinner, I continued to lounge on the sofa.

"Are you still sulking about Benjamin and me..."

"Your relationship is innocent, I know that."

"Then why are you protesting by sleeping on the sofa?" Scarlett asked, hands on her hips, her expression stern.

With a wry smile, I said, "Take a closer look at me today. What's different?"

"You didn't shave?"

I shook my head.

"You didn't prepare fruits for me after dinner."

I chuckled self-deprecatingly.

I thought, "Scarlett, oh Scarlett, I've pampered you too much."

"Don't keep me in suspense, just say it."