Sheldon puffed out his cheeks, sulking. "But you could at least try to learn, right? If Mom knew you were practicing just to make her smile, she would see how much you love her."

Lyndon scooped Sheldon up and carried him to the nursery, setting him down gently. "You're far too young to be tossing around words like 'love.' Now go on, boot up your computer."

Sheldon pursed his lips, shooting him a disapproving look. "Dad, you're such a coward."

Lyndon stood there, momentarily speechless. Downstairs, in the kitchen, Tilda was prepared to make pasta.

Elma stood over a bubbling pot of pork and potato stew, stirring slowly.

"Weren't you taking Sheldon to see Mrs. Hughes at the hospital? Why did you come back with Mr. Fernandez? Did he join you to visit Mrs. Hughes?" Elma asked.

Tilda gave a slight nod. "He went straight to the hospital after his plane landed," she replied calmly.

Elma stirred the stew and pressed, "He didn't mention he was going beforehand?"

"No."

Tilda set the cleaned garlic, basil, tomatoes and onions aside.

Elma sighed under her breath. Why couldn't Lyndon ever set aside his ego for Tilda's sake?

Elma's brow furrowed faintly, but she offered soft advice. "Since you two came home together, don't give him the silent treatment. For Sheldon's sake, try to keep things peaceful."

Tilda stayed silent, moving the washed tomatoes to the cutting board and starting to chop.

Noticing Tilda's reluctance to talk, Elma let out another quiet sigh.

Both of them were so hardheaded.

Watching Tilda awkwardly prepare the sauce for the pasta, Elma considered offering help but ultimately held back, choosing to remain a bystander.

She hoped Lyndon would recognize the effort Tilda was putting into making pasta for him and finally let go of his resentment over Sheldon's concealed origins, so their family could find harmony.

Meanwhile, Reggie returned to his apartment, shrugging off his jacket onto the couch and pouring himself a glass of water.

The apartment was still, warmed by soft Lighting.

He took a few sips, gazing at the sky darkening outside, his thoughts circling back to Tilda.

Regret flickered in his eyes once more.

How could she already be married? And with a child, no less. The boy looked about four years old.

But five years ago, wasn't Tilda still in university?

She couldn't have been married then!