3
Refusing to eat? That’s easily fixed. I confiscated all the snacks in the house, then started preparing meals on a strict schedule. If he didn’t come down to eat by a certain time, the plate was gone.
www
[She dares to starve our precious Cole?! The ‘Little Ray of Sunshine‘ would be spoon–feeding him!] [This villainess is asking for it, isn’t she? Can’t wait for the male lead to go dark and stab her.] [Honestly, I’d hate to see Cole turn dark… but the villainess really does deserve to die.]
After a few days of this, even I, not just the comments, started to panic a little. I genuinely worried I might starve Cole to death.
At lunchtime again, after preparing his meal, I knocked. “Can we talk for a bit?”
“Not hungry,” he croaked, his voice weak.
“I can fix locks. If you eat properly, I’ll get your room’s lock repaired.”
Silence stretched on for a long moment, then a scoff. “You fix it today, and my mom will just take the door off its hinges tomorrow. What’s the point of all that back and forth?”
“I have my ways. All you need to do is eat.”
Mealti
I went downstairs to wait. Mealtime was almost over, and he still hadn’t appeared. I waited another twenty minutes, on the verge of giving up, when suddenly, his door creaked open.
Cole came downstairs, dressed in loose sweats, and reluctantly slid into the booth opposite me, picking half–heartedly at the food on his plate.
I stared, dumbfounded for a moment. Was this actually happening? It couldn’t be a dream, could it?
The way he ate was almost… obedient. Just like my old Alaskan Malamute.
Unable to resist the professional urge, I reached out and ruffled his hair. “Such a good boy.”
Cole froze. When he registered what I’d done, his ears flushed a deep, alarming crimson. “Are you insane?!”
He slammed the bowl down and retreated to the sofa, sulking.
I wanted to kick myself. Now I’d truly messed up. He’d probably never eat my cooking again.
A long moment passed. I was about to clear the table when he suddenly slid back into his seat beside me and resumed eating. His head was bowed low, and every now and then, he’d subtly edge closer to my hand.
The comments exploded: [No way, is he begging for head pats?!] [Villainess, did you take a vow of self–control? How can you not pet him?] [Cole: Pouting, but secretly begging for pets.jpg]
