My Cold-Hearted Husband Wants Me Back
Chapter 199: Humiliations

Chapter 199: Humiliations

"You did not?" Lunara asked, still holding tight onto Eryx’s hand as they made their way to the car.

"What? Brunch?" he replied casually, opening the passenger door for her. His gaze flicked toward her, subtly urging her to get in.

"Hmm," she blinked up at him in response, a quiet hum passing her lips.

"I heard someone sulking over this," he added with a soft smile before gently closing the door and circling to the driver’s side.

By the time he slid into his seat, Lunara had already leaned over, eyes fixed on him with her lips pressed into a straight thin smile.

"So," she said, her voice calm but edged with curiosity, "why did she say she had brunch with you? She even told me... you didn’t eat much that day."

Her words hung in the space between them, not quite accusatory but not entirely innocent either.

"Well, I don’t know why she told you that," Eryx said, shifting his grip on the steering wheel. "That day, I had a meeting with a client. She suddenly came over and sat down at my table when the client went to the restroom."

He paused, glancing sideways to catch her reaction, then raised a hand as if surrendering. "I swear, I only said five words to her."

Lunara squinted at him. "What? ’I miss you so much’? ’I’m sorry, I love you’?"

"The seat is occupied. Move," he deadpanned.

Lunara blinked, then scoffed in disbelief. "Wow. Romantic."

He smirked but continued, "She stood up after that and sat at a nearby table. But apparently, she forgot her wallet and came back to ask me for help."

Lunara let out a long sigh, crossing her arms. "Ah, what a great excuse. Who forgets their wallet when going to a fancy restaurant, hmm? I’m sure you didn’t take your client to a cheap diner."

Eryx chuckled softly, not denying it. "Well, I left, but I did ask Callum to help her settle the bill."

Lunara’s frown deepened. She crossed her arms tighter and slammed her back against the seat. "Why?" she glared at him. "Next time, no matter what, don’t even help any other woman except your wife."

Eryx raised an eyebrow, amused by her sudden sulkiness. "Jealous, are we?"

"I’m serious," she muttered, turning her face to the window.

"It won’t happen. You’re the only one who gets this kind of special treatment from me," he said, smiling as he gently tugged on her arm to make her face him.

When she didn’t budge completely, Eryx leaned closer and cupped her face, turning her toward him with both hands. Her cheek was warm against his palm, and just then, his eyes paused—her hair.

He blinked.

"Ah... I just remembered," Eryx said softly, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Did you cut your hair because you were mad at me?"

Lunara blinked, her lips twitching. "What? No."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because that sounds like something you’d do. The ’new hair, new me, don’t need you’ kind of thing."

She shifted her gaze away, staring out the window. "Start driving. I’m hungry."

Eryx’s smile widened as he nodded. "Okay." He gripped the steering wheel, then glanced sideways at Lunara. "By the way... this style looks good too."

She didn’t respond right away, but the small curve of her lips gave her away.

====

They arrived at a cozy Chinese restaurant nestled quietly between a café and a bookstore, one of those hidden gems only locals seemed to know.

Eryx looked around with mild curiosity. "You’ve been here before?"

"Mhm," Lunara hummed proudly as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "This place has the best dumplings in the city. I used to come here with my mom."

He smiled, touched by the hint of sentiment in her voice.

But just as he reached for the car door handle, she turned and stopped him. "Wait. Put this on." She pulled out a cap from her bag and then handed him a pair of sunglasses.

Eryx blinked. "What is this?"

"A disguise," she said with a straight face. "You’re too tall, too handsome, and too recognizable. I don’t want us to end up on some influencer’s lunch vlog. I just want to eat my tofu in peace."

He chuckled, clearly amused. "So I’m a public nuisance now?"

"You’re a walking headline," she said, pressing the cap onto his head herself. "Now put the glasses on. Good. No one will suspect the CEO of Grantham Corp is sitting in a corner booth munching on dumplings."

He adjusted the sunglasses with a dramatic sigh. "If anyone still recognizes me after this, I’m firing my PR team."

Lunara laughed. "Deal."

They walked in, and as expected, no one gave them more than a glance. The restaurant was just as Lunara remembered, simple tables, warm lighting, and the mouthwatering scent of garlic, chili, and sesame oil lingering in the air.

Once they were seated, she glanced at him with a smug little smile. "See? Peace."

"Peace is an illusion," he replied in a low voice, taking off the sunglasses once they were in the corner booth. "but these dumplings better be real."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, they’re real. And you’re paying."

Eryx leaned back in his seat, the faintest smile on his lips. "Of course—"

But before he could finish, something hit with a sickening splat.

A cold, wet sensation dripped down Lunara’s shoulder.

Time seemed to pause.

Her eyes slowly dropped to the mess staining her sleeve and the stench hit a second later. It wasn’t just raw.

It was rotten.

Eryx’s smile vanished instantly.

Lunara sat frozen for a second, her hand trembling slightly as she touched her shoulder and brought her fingers away, covered in slimy egg white and yellow. The sharp, sour stink was unmistakable.

Someone had thrown a rotten egg at her

Gasps and murmurs erupted from nearby tables, people looking around in confusion, some with phones already out. But Eryx didn’t look away.

He stood up in a swift, controlled motion, his chair scraping back.

His jaw clenched. His gaze scanned the restaurant like a hawk, sharp and icy. "Who did it?"

"Eryx," Lunara grabbed his wrist tightly, her voice quiet but urgent. "Don’t... please. Just... sit down."

He looked at her, stunned that she wasn’t yelling, crying, or storming out. But her eyes held something deeper—humiliation, yes, but more than that, exhaustion. She didn’t want a scene.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. His hand curled into a fist, "Who...did it?!"