Stella finally understood what he meant. “You want me to cook for you?” Weston leaned against the
glass door frame beside him, not answering Stella’s question.
“No problem.” Stella nodded.
Weston’s silence clearly did not faze her.
“What would you like to eat?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen.
Weston gazed at Stella as she walked away. Her long hair cascaded down her back, almost reaching
her waist. He remembered how much shorter it was when they first got married. Every night, she would
lie on their bed, her shiny black hair forming a stark contrast with the white sheets. Now every time he
saw the clashing colors of black and white, it would remind him of Stella in bed and he would lose
control of himself for a moment.
Weston set his wandering thoughts aside and his eyes darkened. “Surely you know exactly what I like
to eat?” he replied.
In fact, not even his own parents knew his exact preferences. Growing up, he had always had the best
of everything served up to him on a silver plate- the best food ingredients, the best chefs-so no matter
what was served up they were all consistently excellent. Weston did not even understand why people
had preferences to a certain kind of food because he was so used to being given the best all the time.
But that was not how Stella saw things. After they got married, she would always ask Weston what his
preferences were, what he usually liked to eat or use or do. At the time, Weston thought she was just
wasting her time. He completely ignored all the efforts that she made with disdain. To him, it meant
nothing at all whether or not Stella was good at cooking. Why should he care, when he could get the
best chefs in the world to cook anything he wanted for him at the snap of a finger?
In fact, he did try to get other people to cook for him after they separated. But strangely enough, even
the world’s top chefs could not recreate the taste of the food that Stella made for him.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Stella walked to the fridge leisurely and opened it. She was surprised to find
it filled with various ingredients to cook with-anything from the freshest fruits and vegetables to frozen
imported meat and seafood was there. She stood in front of the fridge for a good few seconds, lost in
thought. It looked like Weston had prepared for her arrival. Stella was reminded of how, in order to
please Weston, she used to learn how to make new dishes every day so she could find out what he
liked to eat. Even if he always ended up showing no interest whatsoever in her food, she still persisted.
Sometimes she would work so hard in the kitchen that she would get blisters in her hands, but if the
food didn’t suit Weston’s taste, he would not even give it a second look, much less finish it.
She found it incredibly ironic that Weston suddenly showed interest in her cooking now, when she had
neither her past enthusiasm nor even a slight interest to please him. She snorted at the thought as she
nonchalantly grabbed a few simple ingredients from the fridge and tossed them in the sink
She knew her way around the kitchen very well. It was a familiar place for her. No matter how hard she
tried to forget her bitter past, she still ended up here, where she used to be
Stella glanced at the glinting edge of the knife on the cutting board. For a brief moment, a most vicious
thought flashed across her mind…
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