Lyndon glanced up, his gaze briefly meeting Brian and Rosalynn's entwined hands, then averted his eyes.

"I'm feeling much better today," he claimed.

Brian caught Lyndon's fleeting look and chuckled, letting go of Rosalynn to open a thermos.

“Time for your breakfast."

Lyndon, smelling the food, gave Rosalynn a warm smile.

“Rosa, did you make this? Thanks."

Rosalynn smiled abashedly as she looked at Brian.

Brian quipped, “Just to clarify, you're thanking the wrong person."

Lyndon's grateful expression stiffened, and he turned to Brian, “Isn't Rosa the cook?"

Brian, casually circling Rosalynn's waist, replied cheerfully, “The hotel staff prepared the congee. My wife was too tired to cook after our lengthy intimacy last night, which caused us to sleep in."

The insinuation was clear, and Rosalynn, blushing, quickly detached from Brian.

"Lyndon, eat your breakfast while it's hot. I'll check with the doctor about your condition," she said, hastily leaving the room.

Brian watched Lyndon with a scrutinizing gaze, hands pocketed.

Lyndon, sipping his congee, asked without looking up, “Have you two made up?"

Brian answered, "There's a saying that even quarreling couples found solace in each other's arms. Haven't you heard of this before?"

Lyndon, after a pause, voiced with quiet intensity, "Rosa is wonderful. Don't hurt her again.

Brian's gaze sharpened, his lips tightening.

"And what would you do if I did?"

Lyndon met his stare.

"She'd deserve someone better," he stated firmly.