Norah was holding an insulated bag with red hearts on it. When she saw Simon, she put on a big smile.
"Simon!"
"My mother made me soup and also prepared some for you. She asked me to bring it to you."
Norah smiled like an eighteen-year-old girl, pure and passionate.
Simon, however, was expressionless. His calm appearance was like that of an eighty-year-old man who had experienced the vicissitudes of life.
Simon looked at the insulated bag that Norah handed over. Norah almost engraved "I love you" on the bag.
Although Simon said he wanted to compensate her, he also had to avoid any physical contact with her. He was afraid that Zayla would be unhappy if she knew about it.
He coldly ordered, "Mark, take it."
"Yes, Mr. Russo." Mark immediately took the insulated bag from Norah.
Norah saw Simon sitting in the wheelchair. Simon seemed to go out...
"Simon, are you going out?"