Yehua stood to greet Joaquin, her voice warm. “Dr. Legare, you’re back late. How did your talk with Dr. Pollock go? Are you hungry? I can make something for you.”
“No need,” Joaquin replied, colder than usual. “If there’s nothing else, you can head home. Oh—this milk tea is for you.”
He handed her the cup.
She knew very well it wasn’t originally meant for her, but she still accepted it with a bright smile. “It’s my favorite flavor. Thank you, Dr. Legare.”
She set it on the coffee table, then quietly went to pour him warm water.
On the table, Joaquin noticed a fruit platter—beautifully arranged. He didn’t have to ask. Yehua prepared it for his parents. She visited often, cleaned often, and was familiar with his home and family. When he wasn’t around, she almost acted like the lady of the house.
The thought made Joaquin uncomfortable, though he didn’t know how to voice it.
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