Chapter 2183

The number slipped from Chelsea’s lips before she realized how it might sound.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her cheeks warming. “Cooking… isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

When she lived overseas, she’d survived almost entirely on takeout and instant meals. There had never been a reason to exhaust herself in the kitchen.

Jason smiled gently. “It’s fine. I never expected you to cook. Ordering dinner for me is already sweet.” He paused, then added, “But from now on, just order for yourself. I can eat at work.”

In truth, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that the meal cost a small fortune.

For Chelsea, one thousand barely registered. For someone living on an ordinary paycheck, it bordered on reckless indulgence. Jason would rather take on extra overtime than let her feel deprived, but the number still tied a knot in his stomach.

“That won’t work,” she protested immediately. “I won’t have an appetite if I’m eating alone.”

Jason nodded, defeated by the earnest look in her eyes. “All right. Then I’ll come home earlier so we can eat together.”

Chelsea laughed, a pleased grin tugging at her lips. “Mmm. You’re the best.”

Budgeting was an abstract concept to her. By her standards, tonight’s meal was practically frugal.

After dinner, Jason leaned back in his chair, letting the quiet settle over the apartment. Just then, the washing machine chimed—a sharp, insistent trill that sliced through the calm.

“I threw your clothes in with mine earlier,” Chelsea said brightly, pride coloring every word. “I’ll go hang them up now.”

Jason blinked. “My clothes?” he echoed, confusion flashing across his face.

The next second, he was on his feet, brushing invisible crumbs from his trousers. “It’s okay. I’ll do it,” he said gently but firmly.

Chelsea hurried after him, the hem of her cotton dress whispering against the floor, as though she couldn’t bear to let him handle anything alone.

Jason lifted the lid.

The suit he’d worn only once—tailored, dry-clean-only navy—lay inside, soaked, limp, and already wrinkled beyond repair. A tight knot formed in his chest.

That jacket had never been meant for a washing machine. Every stitch belonged in boardrooms and negotiations, not trapped in a spin cycle.

“Chelsea,” he said softly.

“What is it?” she asked, already pulling out a hanger, eagerness frozen mid-motion.

With no job and endless empty hours, she had decided housework was the least she could do for him. She hadn’t realized that her help might become another burden.

“It’s nothing,” Jason said calmly. “Don’t worry about it. You must be tired. Go rest—I’ll handle this.”

He knew she meant well. Tonight, intention and outcome simply refused to align.

Chelsea glanced toward the kitchen, remembering the disaster she’d left behind during her failed attempt at cooking.

“…Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll clean up the kitchen, then.”

Jason nodded, grateful for the temporary ceasefire.

As soon as she left, he pulled the ruined suit from the washer. Steam hissed from the fabric, deep creases already set like scars.

It was an expensive suit, one he’d bought specifically for meeting high-profile clients.

Now it was ruined—silent proof of her frantic efforts.

Jason smoothed the lapels out of habit and slipped the hanger behind other clothes, hiding the evidence like a secret he couldn’t bring himself to confront.

Clang!

A sharp crack rang out from the kitchen.

Jason bolted down the hallway and skidded to a stop. Shards of a bowl glittered across the floor like broken ice around Chelsea’s feet.

The mess went far beyond the shattered dish. A pot smoked on the stove, its bottom charred black. Soot streaked the cabinets, and a mountain of dirty dishes overflowed from the sink.

Chelsea stood in the middle of it all, sleeves rolled up, hands slick with detergent, frozen beside the broken bowl.

“Why are you here?” she blurted out, flustered. “Go sit down—I’ve got this.”

Jason frowned. “I thought you ordered takeout. How did the kitchen end up like this?”

Color flooded her cheeks.

“I tried to cook for you first,” she admitted, guilt tightening every word. “But nothing worked, and time kept slipping away. You were almost home, and I panicked… so I ordered food instead.”

She knew it then, standing amid the mess.

Instead of lightening Jason’s load, her eagerness had only stirred chaos—adding fresh weight to shoulders already carrying too much.