chapter173

For most men, a compliment was a point of pride. For Tarquin Bradford, it felt like an unwanted intrusion. A perpetual scowl was plastered across his face as he navigated the supermarket, looking less like a shopper and more like a man on a strategic mission.

Even the janitor was too intimidated to sweep near him, clutching her mop and scurrying away to quieter aisles. Onlookers who had been admiring his striking build and noble aura quickly averted their gaze the moment he looked their way, suddenly finding the labels on cereal boxes fascinating.

Tarquin stormed into the heart of the store, his expression as dark as a thundercloud. It had been years since he’d set foot in a public supermarket, and the bustling chaos, the screeching carts, and the noisy crowds made him grit his teeth. He cherished his silence, but for the sake of following Elysia, he was willing to endure the cacophony.

Taking a cue from her, he grabbed a shopping cart and trailed her at a distance. His logic was simple, if flawed: buy whatever she bought.

When Elysia headed for the produce section and picked up a bunch of bananas, Tarquin did the same. Then she reached for a durian—a spiky, pungent monstrosity that made Tarquin grimace. Not wanting to break his pattern or draw attention by hesitating, he reluctantly hoisted the largest one into his cart, despite its overwhelming aroma.

Next was the vegetable aisle. Cabbage, broccoli, carrots—each item Elysia selected was mirrored by Tarquin within seconds. He followed her doggedly through spices and condiments, his cart becoming a carbon copy of hers.

Elysia, however, was starting to feel a prickle of unease. She felt eyes on her, a constant weight of someone's gaze, yet every time she glanced back, the figure seemed to vanish behind a display of soda or a mountain of flour.

Meanwhile, Tarquin had become the main attraction for everyone else in the store. His presence was impossible to ignore—a man who looked like he belonged on a private jet was instead meticulously copying a woman’s grocery list item for item. The absurdity reached its peak when he followed her into the personal care aisle.

As Elysia reached for a pack of feminine hygiene products, a saleswoman nearby leaned in and whispered, "Miss, your husband is quite the character, isn't he? Did you two have a little falling out?"

"I’m sorry?" Elysia asked, startled.

"Oh, don't be shy, dear. Couples bicker; it's perfectly normal," the woman said with a knowing wink. "But don't stay mad at him for too long. A man that handsome is a rare find. Most men out there are about as appealing as a bag of lemons, but he’s one of a kind. You’re a lucky lady, even if he is being a bit odd today."

Elysia was utterly bewildered. "Husband? I think you have the wrong person. No one is following me."

"No mistake, honey. Everyone’s noticed. He’s been tailing you the whole time, mimicking your every move. He just ducked behind that shelf over there—probably trying to find the right moment to apologize."

Frowning, Elysia pushed her cart around the corner to the other side of the display.

That was when Tarquin emerged. Not seeing Elysia immediately, his brow furrowed in frustration. He approached the shelf where she had just been standing and, without even looking at the labels, grabbed several packets of exactly what she had picked and tossed them into his cart.

The saleswoman couldn't resist stepping in to help. "Getting those for your wife, handsome? Trying to make amends? I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Let me give you a tip: don't take that brand. Go for this one instead. It’s our top seller. A bit more expensive, but your wife is stunning, and she deserves the best. Trust me on this."

Tarquin froze, holding a packet of sanitary pads as the realization of his location—and the absurdity of his cart—finally began to sink in.