My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Johanna was somewhat taken aback, unable to believe he would say such a thing. “Are you serious?”
“I am.” Timothy nodded, his tone gentle and understanding. “I know you're upset, and I can understand if you need to fool around
with someone. It's no big deal. There's no need for us to divorce over it.”
His directness left her at a loss for how to respond. “You must be feverish to the point of delirium.”
“Jojo, what would you like to eat for lunch? How about grilled chicken? Barbecue ribs are also delicious.” he asked, thoughtfully
taking a carton of milk from the refrigerator and handing it to her.
She glanced at him. “I want to eat all of that. Are you able to cook those dishes?”
“What's so difficult about it? There may not be anything special about me, but I'm talented and can learn anything quickly.” With
that, he opened the fridge and took out several ingredients.
Johanna and Timothy had been married for several years, yet she had never seen him cook. Even when we went to Swallow
Garden for the annual feast previously, he merely helped out in the kitchen by washing vegetables. Tim probably doesn't even
know how to turn on a stove. However, it didn't take him long to whip up some delicious pork belly as a birthday treat for Asel.
When she saw him washing vegetables, she noticed his hands and fingers were completely covered with blister scars.
“Don't you have a private chef? Why do you want to learn to cook?” she asked him.
“Didn't I tell you already? I'm naturally talented,” he replied without a hint of embarrassment. “For something like cooking, I can
pick it up easily. I'm not like the talentless Mr. Sutton.”
Then, he turned his head toward her. “Do you want to hear the truth about why I want to cook, or would you like to hear white
lies?”
“Lies,” Johanna answered.

Timothy knew she would say that. Deflated but persistent, he said, “Lies aren't pleasant to hear, Jojo. You said you want to hear
the truth, am I right? You want to hear it, don't you? It's because I want to win you over through your stomach.”
He lowered his gaze to look at her, his charming eyes compelling one to lose themselves in them willingly. “Once you're addicted
to the dishes I cook, you won't be able to leave me.”
Leaning closer toward his wife, he said in a low and coaxing tone, “Your lipstick looks great. Can I have a taste?”
Seemingly bewitched by his gaze, she felt her breath hitch slightly.
Just as Timothy leaned down to kiss her, he felt someone tugging at the hem of his sweater. He looked down to see Asel tilting
her head up, eyeing him with resentment. “Daddy, you're as sly... as sly...”
She was still young. Even five or six-year-olds would find it tricky to learn idioms. Hence, even after hearing it, she would not be
able to remember it so quickly. That was why her voice trailed off mid-sentence.
Finally, she used simple words and complained angrily, “Daddy has no shame. You keep kissing Mommy. I want Mommy to kiss
me too.”
Johanna bent down and kissed Asel's cheek, then told the latter that the kitchen smelled of oil and smoke. Two kisses were
enough to satisfy Asel, and she went out to continue watching cartoons.
“Jojo.” Timothy looked at Johanna with an aggrieved expression. Had Asel not barged in and interrupted me, I would've kissed
Jojo already!
Nonetheless, he could not bring himself to be angry at Asel.
She ignored him, focusing intently on making pancakes, and he had no choice but to return to cooking begrudgingly.
In addition to the two dishes Johanna wanted to eat, he also made mushroom soup. He carried the dishes to the table and
served Johanna a bowl of soup first, then Asel.

Asel opened her eyes wide and asked, “Daddy, am I just a tool to you?”
Daddy usually serves me my food first. However, whenever Mommy is around, he always serves her first.
“How is that possible? You're my darling little girl,” he responded, placing a pancake on her plate. “However, Mommy is the
person I love the most. She's irreplaceable.”
“Oh my gosh! So I'm not number one in your heart.” Asel clutched at her heart with her small hand, looking heartbroken.
Timothy and Johanna could not help but burst into laughter.
After lunch, Johanna wanted to head to the studio to quickly finish the oil paintings for the first and second floors before opening
for business. Giving the excuse that Asel could not bear to be apart from her, he insisted that Asel accompany Johanna to the
studio.
“The studio has just been renovated, so there might be formaldehyde. Inhaling it will make children feel unwell,” said Johanna.
“Then I'll go with you.”
“No need for that. You talk too much, and I need a quiet space to paint.” After dashing his hopes with her reply, she gave Asel a
peck on the cheek and turned to leave.