Olivia

"Can we get two plates of fried shrimp!" a customer's voice echoed through the room.

"Yes! They'll be with you shortly!" I responded loudly from behind the counter, then turned to Logan, who was busy in the kitchen.

"You really shouldn't be shouting like that; it's not good for the baby," Logan chided as he skillfully prepared the shrimp.

"Well, I have to if we want to make enough money for Grandma," I retorted, earning a chuckle from Logan.

"You're something else. What does shouting have to do with making money?"

If only he knew.

"Do you have any idea how much we've made so far? You underestimate the magic of your cooking skills. Keep going," I urged, taking the two plates and heading out to serve the customers. There were still more orders to take.

When Logan and I decided to open the restaurant, we initially planned to offer just one menu, noodles, as it was the easiest option. However, to our surprise, customers started pouring in. Some were regulars who inquired about Grandma's whereabouts. I hadn't realized my grandma was practically a neighborhood celebrity.

"Hello?" The customer in front of me waved, snapping me out of my thoughts. I held his order on a plate.

"Sorry, sir, please," I mumbled as I set the plate in front of him.

"These single women nowadays have no shame getting pregnant. Then they blame society for not treating them fairly," his words struck a chord with me. I bit my lip before turning away. He had already started eating his noodles. I snatched away his bowl, taking him by surprise.

"Excuse me, sir, you should apologize," I demanded.

"What are you doing, woman!" He spat at me, a look of fury in his eyes. I didn't want to make a scene, not just yet, but it seemed the man didn't understand the implications of his words.

"I heard what you said. You should apologize," I repeated, drawing the attention of others in the restaurant.

He scoffed. "Apologize? For what reason? Did I lie? Single women like you are always fooling around with men. In the end, you'll cry and blame the man for ruining your lives. Honestly, being a housewife suits women better." He chuckled, further enraging me.

"Listen here, man, since you can't respect yourself, I see no reason to address you with respect. Women are not objects or tools for men to play with. We are all unique individuals with our own perspectives and life choices. Just because you see a pregnant woman doesn't mean she didn't follow the right path. It doesn't mean she doesn't value her life. It might—"

"Did you follow the right path?" He interrupted, cutting off my words and igniting my anger.

"Get out," Logan appeared beside me, gripping a small towel tightly in his hand, a clear sign that he was on the edge.

"And who are you to interfere?" The man's eyes scrutinized Logan from head to toe. "Ah, the cook, right?"

Things escalated quickly, and the room filled with gasps as Logan grabbed the man by the neck. "I kindly asked you to leave without causing a scene. So, if you value what's left of your life, get out of here. We don't welcome scoundrels who pursue married women and someone's daughter for their selfish desires." Logan's grip tightened, and his words shocked the man, his eyes wide with fear.

The man choked and clutched his neck when Logan released his grip. "I won't tolerate anyone insulting my wife," Logan declared, his voice ringing out for everyone to hear.

"For anyone harboring any ill intentions, she is my wife. We are legally married," Logan proclaimed, causing me to blush as if it were the first time he had said it. There was something different about today.

Logan turned back to the stunned man. "And you, get out of here before I call the police for the charge of sexually harassing my wife." He warned, his tone sharp.

The man shot us both a venomous look, cleared his throat, and walked away. "Everyone, get back to your meals!" Logan clapped his hands together, dispersing the lingering tension in the room.

Later, as we closed the restaurant for the day, I couldn't help but tease Logan, saying, "I had no idea my husband was so good with words."

A small smile played on the corner of his lips. "I couldn't let him disrespect you. The man clearly lacked sense. He wanted to insult the wife of Logan Nero. He would have ended up spending the rest of his life behind bars."

I stopped walking, and Logan paused too, looking at me with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked. I remained silent, staring at him. My grandmother's words came rushing back to me. I might not understand why she insisted on me leaving Logan, but regardless of the reason, I had made up my mind never to leave him. He was my world.

"Are you okay?" he inquired, taking my hand. I took a deep breath before surprising him by wrapping my arms around him. "I don't know, Logan. Just promise me you'll be with me forever," I whispered.

He took a deep breath too, maybe concerned that something was wrong with me. He patted my back for a while before gently pulling away. "Why would I even think about leaving you? Just the thought terrifies me, let alone doing it. I'd lose my sanity if that ever happened."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "See... that's why I call you a crybaby. Now look at you," He said, I sniffed back my tears. My arms were still around his neck.

"You always manage to get me emotional with your words," I admitted. He brushed his thumb over my cheek.

"I like making you emotional. And I like seeing you blush when I tease you," He winked, playfully pinching the bridge of my nose.

"And I love the way you love me," I said, leaning in for a kiss, but our moment was interrupted by a voice.

"Get a room!"

Logan and I chuckled as we noticed a young man on a bicycle. He waved at us, and Logan intertwined our hands as we continued our journey. "Are the people in this neighborhood all so carefree?" Logan asked.

"Yeah. Didn't you see the number of people asking about my grandma? She's practically a celebrity here."

"If I stay a few more days, I'll be the talk of the town," He said. I replied with a look that was more of a glare.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Mr. Logan. What could possibly make you the talk of the town?"

"My cooking skills, of course. We made that huge amount because they loved my food," he retorted, a proud smile on his lips. I was left slightly open-mouthed at how confidently he spoke of himself. But, to be fair, he wasn't entirely wrong. I could vouch for his cooking skills.

"I like that idea. Why don't you consider opening a restaurant here? I'm sure it would become popular in no time," I suggested, thinking it would be a good business move for him. If father could cope up with an idea to start up a coffee venture, I'm sure if Logan will put his focus on this, it will bring him a reasonable percentage.

"You think so? But then I'd be busy managing the office and taking care of you and our baby. When would I find the time to run a restaurant down here?" I blushed a little at his words. Logan had a way of making me blush; he always made my heart flutter. And I loved it. I cherished every moment we spent together.

"You're going to turn into a tomato soon," he teased, and my smile instantly faded. I pulled my hand away from his.

"Just say I'm as round as a tomato. I knew it. I noticed how you were looking at me earlier at the restaurant. You kept smiling. I must be too fat, right?" I pointed my finger at him, squinting my eyes playfully.

"As long as you didn't hear me say it myself, then we're good. Whether you're fat or not doesn't matter. What matters is that Olivia Reed is mine. My wife." he stated, making me feel more confident about myself.

"Well, you're not that bad," I mumbled playfully, rolling my eyes as we entered the hospital.

"I'm perfect," he emphasized, throwing me a playful look. I retorted, knowing he couldn't do much to stop me.

"Uh-huh. Perfect my foot." I charged back. Logan threw a warning look my direction. "You can't do anything to me you know. So I advice you to cool off your mind." I retorted.

We finally arrived at grandma's room but exchanged glances when we heard voices coming from inside. "Doctor, I told you I don't want a transplant. Just let this old woman go. I have no one left to live for," Grandma's voice pierced my heart like ice.

"You have your granddaughter," the doctor replied.

"I don't. I've already made myself clear. I won't get a transplant, and that's final. Let me die," Grandma declared. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed the door open.

"Grandma!"