That evening, Ayla came home early like Silas asked, to find the mother and son on the couch in the living room.
Clearly, they had taken care of the diarrhea. Wonderful.
Muttering a loud enough greeting, she wasn't surprised when neither of them answered.
Nevertheless, she proceeded to the kitchen, dropping her bag on the island as she reached for the apron hung on the door.
She then went through the meal timetable to check what to cook and got to work.
Three hours later, she was done. She served the table and went out to call them.
Talia Dawson had just opened the food when her brows creased into a hard frown.
"What is this?"
Silas, who was about to scoop some soup into his mouth, stopped to respond, "Chicken."
The woman frowned harder and raised her eyes to glare at Ayla. "Yes, but I didn't say I want to eat chicken. Why do I have one in front of me?"
Seeing the upcoming tantrum, Ayla's pupils dilated in annoyance, but her expression remained neutral.
