After making some chicken soup for myself, I went back to the bedroom to rest. Being weak meant needing more sleep, and I slept straight through until evening.
After freshening up, my ordered meal prep delivery arrived.
As luck would have it, James came home at the same time.
I ignored him, quietly setting out my food and pouring myself a bowl of soup.
James headed straight to the kitchen to warm up his milk, but paused when he saw the soup, putting the milk back in the fridge.
His tone was unusually gentle. “Thanks for making soup for me.”
I frowned. “It’s for me. Don’t touch it.”
James’s outstretched hand froze mid–air.
He looked shocked, then his face darkened. “Rachel! You know about my acid reflux!”
I replied calmly. “Yes, I know about your stomach issues. That’s why I used to leave work early every day. I taught myself to cook from scratch, spent hours grocery shopping after long days at work, studied recipes, took notes – all to help your digestion.”
But what did you do?
Out there having fun with someone else.
Leaving me alone watching fresh–cooked meals slowly turn cold.
Just like my heart.
Even the warmest things cool down eventually.
I continued flatly. “But that’s all in the past.”
“Don’t you like Sophie? Ask her to cook for you.”
Watching me calmly sip my soup, James stared at me coldly before sullenly returning to the kitchen to heat his milk.
