Playing the Villainess, He Fell for Me

This was the first time Joanna Kennedy had been to Simon Lockwood’s home.

The decor was minimalist, with a palette of black, white, and gray that gave it a cold, detached feeling—a perfect match for Simon’s own style.

From her seat on the sofa, she had a clear view of the open-plan kitchen, where the man, wearing an apron, was busy at work.

His shoulders were broad and reassuring. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his forearms, revealing well-defined muscles and a conspicuous red mark.

Why did it look worse?

Joanna frowned. "You didn’t use the iodine I gave you, did you?"

Applying iodine leaves a faint yellow stain on the skin. It was obvious, however, that Simon’s arm bore only a startling red scar.

In the kitchen, Simon’s hand paused as he was stirring the seafood porridge. He subtly pulled his sleeve down a little. "I used it. It probably washed off by accident."

That was his explanation, but Joanna was only half-convinced. "Really?"

"Yes," Simon replied, his expression completely serious.

"I’ll take your word for it, for now," Joanna said. "But you shouldn’t be getting it wet. I can wash the vegetables. What do you need?"

Simon’s tense expression relaxed. He felt the young woman approach from behind, her faint, fresh scent overpowering the aroma of the seafood porridge. He instinctively tensed his muscles. "...The Shanghai bok choy and the potatoes."

"Just those two? Nothing else?" Unaware of the man’s reaction, Joanna walked over to the refrigerator.

Opening it, she was surprised to find it fully stocked. She never would have guessed that the aloof Simon Lockwood had more of a domestic side than she did.

From the abundance of ingredients, Joanna’s eyes immediately picked out the Shanghai bok choy; its vibrant green color looked incredibly healthy.

The potatoes were on the upper shelf. She picked out a large one, washed it clean, and meticulously peeled it before handing it to him.

"Just a little longer, and then we can eat."

The man’s voice, low and gentle, cut through the bubbling of the beef stew.

Through the rising steam from the pot of beef and potato stew, his handsome features seemed to soften, taking on a warm, domestic air. Joanna heard the sound of her own heartbeat.

It took her a long moment to respond, her voice a little muffled. "Mm..."

Though they had barely spoken, Joanna felt surprisingly comfortable and relaxed. Perhaps, she thought, being in a kitchen wasn’t so bad after all. It was actually rather pleasant.

Seafood porridge, braised shrimp in oil, stir-fried Shanghai bok choy, and beef and potato stew—it was a feast for the senses. Joanna marveled once again at Simon’s undeniable culinary skills.

She took a sip of the seafood porridge. It was savory, thick, and incredibly delicious. But as she chewed, an explosion of flavor filling her mouth, she felt something was different. Puzzled, she said, "There’s no shredded ginger in this. I thought you loved adding it?"

...............

The moment the words left her mouth, Joanna froze. The sentence had just slipped out, without any thought, a purely unconscious question.

And that was the problem.

This was the first time Simon had made her seafood porridge. How did she know he liked to add shredded ginger?

The air grew heavy with a long, profound silence. No one spoke.

Every nerve in Simon’s body went taut, his heart pounding like a war drum. A thousand words surged to his lips, but seeing the confusion surface in her eyes, he found he couldn’t utter a single one.

Sensory memory didn’t mean anything. Joanna hadn’t remembered. The lid on the box of memories had merely been pried open a crack. That was all.

The turbulent blood in his veins slowly began to cool. Simon thought the seafood porridge tasted a little bitter. He forced himself to swallow, the bitterness filling his mouth. Gripping the spoon tightly, he suppressed the turmoil in his heart. "I used ginger juice to get rid of the fishiness, not shredded ginger..."

Joanna hated eating ginger. Her aversion was particular: she disliked biting into pieces of it but could tolerate the flavor.

It was a perfectly straightforward answer, as if he hadn’t noticed anything strange in her question. Joanna should have been relieved, but an ache was spreading through her chest, a heavy weight that made it hard to breathe. She sat in silence for a while before finally murmuring, "Oh, I see..."

For the rest of the meal, they both tacitly agreed not to speak, eating in silence. But the appetite they’d had at the beginning was gone.

They washed the dishes together, but the suffocating feeling in Joanna’s chest didn’t ease. If anything, it intensified. She didn’t want to stay any longer. Feigning composure, she said, "It’s getting late. I should be heading back..."

She unconsciously twisted the hem of her shirt. "Thank you for lunch..."

Simon’s expression soured, his face a little pale. He asked if she didn’t like the food. Joanna immediately waved her hands. "No, no, I loved it! Your cooking is amazing!"

It was the truth. She had been to countless restaurants and private kitchens, but they all seemed to lack something when compared to Simon’s cooking.

"But you... barely ate anything..." Simon said, pursing his lips. His normally cool and calm dark eyes seemed to dim.

She had only had a small bowl of porridge and hadn’t eaten much of the other dishes. Simon knew with certainty that this was not her usual appetite.

Meeting his gaze, Joanna felt a prick, like being stuck with a needle. It didn’t hurt much, it was bearable, but it was still uncomfortable.

Joanna averted her eyes, getting away with the excuse that "an actress has to maintain her figure and can’t eat too much."

She refused Simon’s offer to drive her home. The moment she was inside her own apartment, she shut the door and leaned against it, not moving for a long time.

She felt as if she had forgotten so many things, yet when she carefully searched her mind, she couldn’t find anything amiss.

Her memories of the past twenty-five years seemed intact. There were no problematic phases: growing up in an orphanage, receiving sponsorship for school, getting into Jornheim First High School as a specially-recruited student, then being scouted and accepted into the Film Academy.

After graduating, she signed with Thorne Entertainment. Every memory was clear and logical, able to withstand any scrutiny.

But... Joanna was once again lost in confusion.

If she hadn’t forgotten anything, then why did these strange images keep appearing in her mind?

A man, both strange and familiar, who would gently treat her wounds, skillfully prepare her meals, worry about her, and scold her with a hint of helpless resignation.

The man was always watching her, his gaze tender and lingering, like the first thaw of winter ice...

It seemed someone was knocking on the door. Joanna was about to open it when she realized the sound wasn’t coming from her door.

In the neat, bright living room, Simon stood frozen in the same position he had been in when she left. He stood in silence, as if only by doing so could he restrain the urge to chase after her.

A soft but distinct knock echoed through the room. Simon’s heart leaped. His eyes shot up, and his body moved faster than his mind. He strode to the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open. "Jo—Why is it you?"

Recognizing the visitor, Simon’s face visibly cooled, returning to its usual dispassionate state.

Jasper Sinclair was almost in awe of his so-called brother’s rapid change of expression. Recalling the "Jo-" that had just escaped Simon’s lips, he narrowed his eyes, his tone ambiguous. "Who were you expecting, little brother?"

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