Mr. Warner, Your Wife is Running Away Again!-Chapter 317: I Just Missed You

Phoebe King glanced at him: "You haven’t agreed, where would I get a boyfriend from?"

Stephen Sutton replied indifferently: "Wasn’t it that guy who had dinner with you that day?"

Phoebe King frowned and seriously thought: "Which day?"

Stephen Sutton remained silent.

"Are you talking about this weekend? Did you see me?" Without waiting for Stephen Sutton to answer, Phoebe King laughed and said, "What boyfriend? Are you talking about the guy in the floral shirt? He’s my brother, my blood brother!"

Stephen Sutton stared at the ascending elevator numbers, still silent.

Phoebe King edged closer to him and asked with a laugh: "Did you get jealous?"

Stephen Sutton merely replied to her: "Ask your brother to come pick you up."

"He went back to Serephina yesterday. Honestly, I only stayed in this country to pursue you. My brother came by the order of my parents to bring me back for a matchmaking session. I told them I had a boyfriend here and would bring you over for Christmas. If I haven’t managed to catch you by Christmas, my time will be up, and they’ll definitely come to drag me back for a matchmaking session."

Stephen Sutton seemed to ignore her words entirely, and as soon as the elevator doors opened, he stepped out.

Afraid of being shut out again, Phoebe King quickly followed him out.

As he took out the key to open the door, she firmly stationed herself beside him. As he pulled the door open and entered the house, she grabbed the door frame to prevent him from shutting her out, then squeezed in with him.

Unexpectedly, he didn’t say anything, as if he was ignoring her presence entirely.

Once inside, he shut the door behind him and placed the umbrella by the door, focusing on changing his shoes.

Phoebe King felt that he was behaving strangely, perhaps planning to throw her out later?

Seeing him finish changing shoes and walk directly into the living room, Phoebe King thought that as long as he didn’t kick her out now, she would stay put.

So she placed her umbrella beside his, bent low to undo the ankle strap buckle, and took off the wet sandals.

She gently opened the shoe cabinet door and peeked inside; it was mostly filled with his leather and sports shoes, without any spare shoes or women’s shoes, which made Phoebe King smile with satisfaction.

She walked barefoot into the living room, leaving footprints on the floor because her feet were wet.

She noticed this herself and worried he would be unhappy about her dirtying the floor, so after taking a couple of steps, Phoebe King tiptoed to minimize the footprints.

Phoebe King walked straight to the sofa, watching Stephen Sutton who was standing beside the clothes rack, removing his coat, and said: "Um... just pretend I’m not here. I’ll just borrow your sofa to sleep on tonight and will be gone by dawn. I promise I won’t disturb you!"

Stephen Sutton didn’t respond immediately. He took off his coat, hung it on a hook, and then turned to look at her, asking: "Did you come to find me?"

Phoebe King was stunned for a moment, then nodded her head like a chicken pecking at rice.

Stephen Sutton turned to pick up a cup, pouring hot water into it, and asked: "What do you want to find me for?"

Phoebe King hadn’t expected him to speak to her, even though it was cold and callous. It also made Phoebe King feel a bit flattered. She walked over to him, smiling and said: "Oh, nothing really, I just missed you."

Stephen Sutton knew that she never had any legitimate business with him. Yet every time he thought she would stop coming to him after receiving cold treatment, she would shamelessly appear before him again, always with the same lack of restraint.

"...Could you pour me a cup too? I’m a bit thirsty," said Phoebe King, looking at the cup in his hand.

Stephen Sutton glanced at her, his expression filled with impatience, and handed her a wine glass from the rack: "I haven’t used it in a long time, you’ll have to wash it yourself."

Phoebe King reached for the goblet, noticed the thin layer of dust on it, pursed her lips, and took it to the kitchen to wash.

Upon returning, she couldn’t see him anywhere. Through the crack in the bedroom door, light was shining through, hinting that perhaps he still possessed a shred of humanity since he didn’t plan to kick her out.

Phoebe King poured herself a cup of hot water and began drinking, walking to the door of Stephen Sutton’s bedroom, leaning down to press her ear against the door, curious about what he was doing inside.

She couldn’t hear anything through the door, though, she wanted to knock on it to find an excuse to take a peek inside, however, she feared annoying him and potentially being thrown out.

Outside still had heavy rain and the lurking threat of a murderer. Tossing a girl out of the house under such conditions was something he, cold-hearted and ruthless, was likely to do. So Phoebe King didn’t challenge his limits.

She quietly returned to the sofa.

On the coffee table was a book that looked either like a school textbook or educational materials, and anyway, it made her head spin just looking at it.

She took a careful look around the room, which was a straightforward-looking man’s room, with all the essentials and nothing overly complicated, styled in a simple, singular way.

Phoebe King noticed a small room beside her that looked like a bathroom. She pushed open the door and went in, ran hot water over her cold feet, used the restroom, then returned to wander outside his bedroom door for a while, seeing that he likely wouldn’t be coming out, Phoebe King sat back down on the sofa.

Though the weather these days was supposed to be early spring late summer, in today’s case, not having something to cover herself felt somewhat cold.

Phoebe King wasn’t in a rush to sort out sleeping arrangements for the night but instead felt the urge to smoke. She fished out a lady’s cigarette from her bag, lit it, and put it to her mouth.

It was only preparing to flick off the ash that she realized the coffee table didn’t even have an ashtray.

She vaguely recalled Audrey Sutton mentioning that Stephen Sutton didn’t smoke.

Phoebe King got up and pulled a tissue to place by the coffee table, flicking ash onto the paper.

As she was about to put the cigarette to her lips once more, sounds came from the bedroom, followed by Stephen Sutton emerging freshly showered, wearing his pajamas.

Their eyes met, Phoebe King halted her smoking motion, and if it weren’t for the smoke rising from the cigarette near her mouth, one might think it was a still image before her.

Perceiving the displeasure in Stephen Sutton’s eyes, Phoebe King hesitated for two or three seconds before finally reacting, quickly setting down the cigarette and extinguishing it on the tissue she’d prepared.

She then wrapped the ash in the paper, along with the barely smoked cigarette, and threw them into the trash can.

Stephen Sutton said nothing, carrying a blanket, turned, entered the room opposite.

Seeing he didn’t shut the door after entering, Phoebe King quickly followed, seeing him bending over to make the bed.

"...Are you making the bed for me?"

Stephen Sutton merely smoothed the wrinkles on the bedsheet with his hand, not responding.

Phoebe King was evidently flattered and couldn’t believe he was making the bed for her, but the situation now seemed indeed to be the case.

She smiled, went over, and helped him pull the bedsheet, gazing at him full of affection, pretended to be coy and said: "There’s really no need to go through such trouble, I can just sleep on the sofa. You’re suddenly so nice to me now; I almost feel embarrassed."