My Supermodel Wife

Lilia finished replying to Alfred's text and put her cell phone on the table. When she looked up, she felt that Jean's face looked a little gloomy. However, when Lilia took a closer look at the man, Jean's expression was as flat as ever.

'Maybe he just got the wrong look' Lilia decided.​​

"What's your order?" Jean asked while tapping on Lilia's menu book.

"Oh…" Lilia read the menu book briefly before ordering a bowl of soup and a plate of salad.

After the waitress left with their order, Jean took the teapot from the table and began to brew the tea, "Isn't your dinner too little? I told you that I will treat you, so you don't have to feel embarrassed."

Lilia could hear the worry in the man's voice, but she had no intention of adding to the order, "Next week I will go to Milan for the fashion week. I really need to keep my body in shape, so I don't dare to eat more!"

Jean poured tea into Lilia's cup and his own. The fragrant aroma of tea made Lilia feel relaxed.

"How long will you be there?" Jean asked while sipping his tea.

"About a week." Lilia tasted the tea and immediately liked it, "If all goes well, I can be back in four or five days."

Jean just nodded and didn't say another word.

In the open dining room, only the sound of insects and the wind blowing occasionally could be heard. Lilia started fidgeting with her nails. Jean's decision to book this entire place had the opposite effect. This silence was awkward and uncomfortable.

When Lilia was trying to find a topic for conversation, her cellphone rang again. Both Lilia and Jean's gazes were fixed on the cellphone screen, which showed a new SMS message. Lilia immediately opened it and read the message.

When Lilia was typing her thanks, Jean glared at the woman. If they had been in a closed room, the temperature in that room would have dropped dramatically due to Jean's irritation. Even though Lilia had put her cellphone in the bag, the man's mood still didn't improve.

Jean looked at Lilia's bag and realized that the woman didn't keep her cellphone in the bag, but instead put it on the table. He was sure that Lilia was doing it on purpose because she was waiting for the SMS reply. Jean's annoyance peaked when he felt that Lilia was just chatting with him to pass the time until the text she was waiting for arrived.

The man suddenly rose from his chair, "I'm going to the restroom for a bit." He said coldly before leaving.

Lilia watched Jean walk away with a confused look. This time she didn't see it wrong— the man looked irritated! Lilia lowered her head and dug through her memories one by one. What irritated Jean? Was it because she ordered late? Or because she ordered too little food? There's no way Jean was annoyed just because Lilia replied to the incoming text, right?

The more Lilia thought about it, the more suspicious and annoyed Jean looked because he felt he was ignored. It seemed like Jean didn't like it when Lilia shared her attention with other things even though they were having dinner together. He sighed while shaking his head. Jean acted like a child whose toys were snatched by other kids! Unfortunately, no one else there could correct the misunderstanding.

Meanwhile, Jean left the dining room and went into the hallway between the outdoor area and the indoor area of ​​the restaurant. He took out his cell phone and called someone.

"Find out everything that happened when Lilia went to her brother's campus today. Immediately." His order was brief. After saying that, Jean immediately hung up on him.

The man let out a deep breath, but he still felt confused. He took out his cigarette and lit it with a lighter. After several puffs of cigarette smoke, Jean felt calmer. He leaned against the pillar and stared at the open dining room he had just left. For an instant, his mouth curled into a helpless smile.

All this time Jean thought of himself as a rational person. He could keep his emotions steady without problem and yet, that confidence began to waver when he met the woman. Only she could make his mood rise or fall this easy.

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