Frowning, Rosalynn called out, "Brian?"

A crash was the only response she got.

Alarmed now, Rosalynn hurried over to the kitchen to see what was going on.

She was greeted by the sight of Brian in an apron, puttering around at the table.

Countless bottles and jars were littered on the table, not to mention the mess of random spillage here and there.

“What are you doing?" Rosalynn asked in confusion.

“Good morning." Brian placed a piece of fried steak on a plate.

Rosalynn's eyes widened.

"Are you making breakfast?"

How could this cold and arrogant man be doing something so mundane?

Was something wrong in his head when he woke up this morning?

“That's right. I made breakfast for you, full of my Love. Are you impressed?"

Brian gestured at the spread on the table and beamed at her with pride.

He made her breakfast on a whim. And the food Looked good, too.

As expected, this man was a genius in anything he did.

Rosalynn was indeed impressed, and perhaps a little moved.

He had made breakfast especially for her.

But then she noticed a trash bag to the side, its handles tied in a very tight not.

Vaguely, she could see various charred pieces inside. Burnt steaks, obviously.

Not only that, but Rosalynn could make out a few burnt eggs as well.

“Just how much food did you waste in the process?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Brian had been eagerly waiting to be praised, so he was deflated by Rosalynn's question.