Chapter 53: Wanting to Change for Him*

Suddenly, the person nestled in his arms stirred, pulling his chaotic thoughts back into focus.

He lowered his head and was met by a pair of wide, bright eyes staring up at him.

"Mr. Zeller..." The sweet, soft voice echoed in his ears, sending a strange, tingling warmth through his heart. It felt like a light feather brushing against his soul—brief but stirring ripples deep within him.

"Have you slept enough? If so, get up," Lucas Zeller turned his gaze away, coughing lightly, trying to mask the inexplicable fluster he was feeling.

"Oh," Claire Grace, realizing the situation belatedly, hurriedly sat up from his embrace, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But a second later, she froze in shock.

Oh my god! Just now... Was she really waking up in his arms? How did that happen? Hadn't he left earlier? And wasn't she supposed to be lying on the couch?

"What are you thinking about?" Lucas suddenly asked. A few strands of his slightly messy hair fell across his forehead, making his already striking features appear even more irresistibly attractive.

Claire swallowed hard, her heart trembling wildly in her chest, fearing it might leap out at any moment.

"Mr. Zeller, didn't you go out?" she asked, confused.

"Can't I come back?" Lucas glanced at her, his eyes dropping to her right hand. "Don't move your hand too much, or the ointment will rub off."

"Huh? What's this stuff?" Claire asked, frowning at the layer of shiny yellow cream on the back of her hand.

"It's burn ointment," he replied, his deep voice tinged with a hint of restraint.

"Oh, so it wasn't a dream. The reason my hand felt cool earlier was because you applied burn ointment." Realizing that he had gone out to buy medicine for her, Claire's heart swelled with warmth.

She blinked, then her eyes fell on the boxes on the desk.

"Mr. Zeller, what's inside those boxes?" she asked curiously.

"Your lunch," Lucas said, standing up and walking over to the desk. He opened one of the boxes, and though the packaging wasn't ventilated, the food inside was still warm.

"Wow! It smells so good. Wait, is that... Italian pizza?" Claire exclaimed in surprise, looking at him. "Mr. Zeller, how did you know I liked this?"

"I didn't know you liked it. I just bought it randomly." Uncomfortable with her teary-eyed gratitude, Lucas was quick to deny the truth—that he had remembered her mentioning once, during an outing, how much she loved Italian pizza, and had mentally noted it.

Is that so? Her heart, which had been fluttering with joy, now felt a slight pang of disappointment. But it was soon replaced by a surge of happiness.

Actually, Mr. Zeller isn't that bad to her. At least he cared enough to get her medicine when she burned her hand. And he even bought her favorite Italian pizza, whether intentional or not. It didn't matter. The point was, he had gotten it for her, and that was enough.

"What are you grinning about? You're about to get pizza on your nose." Unable to handle her radiant gaze and the silly smile that kept creeping onto her face, Lucas turned his back to her, leaning against the edge of his desk.

"Mr. Zeller, do you think I'm dumb?" Claire asked, suddenly feeling downcast.

"Absolutely! So dumb it's beyond help!" Lucas responded bluntly, not missing a beat, and even took the opportunity to trample on her feelings further, not caring if she might be hurt by his words.

"I think it has something to do with me not understanding makeup, right?" She recalled how he'd once called her clueless about cosmetics, and the tone in which he said it seemed like he found her lacking.

Lucas said nothing, but his silence was confirmation enough.

Claire quietly chewed on her pizza, but her mind was racing.

She had finally realized that she liked him and had begun to notice the little ways he cared for her. So, she couldn't let him dislike her because of something like her lack of knowledge about makeup. But what could she do to avoid him looking down on her? She didn't know how to apply makeup, nor did she know how to dress stylishly. Most of her wardrobe consisted of the simple, schoolgirl outfits she used to wear before marriage. The rest were formal clothes Lucas had bought for her after they got married. Among all those clothes, only one was a dress—a knee-length one, which was what she was wearing today.

Could it be that she dressed too conservatively, and that's why...? Maybe she should try changing.