Deirdre did not know what Brendan had put into the soup, but it tasted just as she expected. It was bitter and salty.

“How is it?”

Just as Deirdre was about to spit it out, the man sitting next to her asked, his voice filled with expectation, and he looked just like a kid asking for a compliment.

In the end, she swallowed it and said, “It’s not bad.”

“That means it’s tasty.”

Getting a compliment from someone like Deirdre, with superb cooking skills, meant that the soup tasted really good. With that thought in mind, Brendan said, “You should eat more since you’re pregnant. If you like it, I’ll cook for you every day.”

Deirdre lowered her head and munched on the meat.

Brendan looked at her for a while and got himself a bowl of soup as well. He frowned and spat it out as soon as he put it into his mouth. “What the h*ll is this!?”

“Chicken soup,” replied Deirdre.

“No, this isn’t chicken soup. The soup you made for me doesn’t taste like this,” Brendan said as he took Deirdre’s b