"Got it. I'll work on my cooking skills from now on," Tilda promised.

Casper blinked in surprise.

He had expected a sharp retort, but Tilda accepted his criticism with unexpected grace.

Just like that, some of his frustration with her eased.

However, his relief was short-lived when he saw Lyndon still eating the pasta. He frowned.

"Lyndon, can you stop? Your wife already knows you are dedicated to her; you don't need to keep eating."

Lyndon glanced at Tilda, a gentle smile softening his face, and twirled another forkful of pasta.

"Casper, my wife's cooking is actually pretty good this time. Why don't you give it a try?"

Casper let out a dry laugh. "I'd rather not risk my taste buds."

Unfazed, Lyndon nudged the plate toward him.

"I'm serious. This batch isn't that salty-it's actually good. Just try it."

To his surprise, the pasta was genuinely better this time— simple yet tasty.

Compared to the earlier batch, it was very good.

Yet Casper remained skeptical. "Stop trying to trick me. I'll stick with what Rita cooked, thanks."

Just then, Rita arrived with two more dishes, and Casper quickly pushed the plate back toward Lyndon. He had no intention of testing his luck.

Lyndon chuckled, drawing the plate back toward himself. "Fair enough. This is a special Lunch made with love by my wife. It wouldn't be right to share it with outsiders."

Casper's mouth opened, then snapped shut. Lyndon was truly a hopeless romantic, through and through.

With a huff, Casper dug into his meal, choosing to stay out of it.

"Casper, how's the food?" Rita asked with a bright smile. Casper took a bite, nodding. "It tastes great."

He had to admit-Rita's cooking was impressive, far beyond Tilda's current skills.

"I'm glad you like it," Rita beamed, but her gaze flickered toward Lyndon.

The food she had placed on his plate remained untouched. Her smile faltered slightly.

“Lyndon, Mrs. Fernandez, why don't you try some too?"

Her voice carried a hopeful note, but Tilda stood up, her expression calm.