Reality is indeed different from fiction. Regardless of the female lead, the male lead, or the side characters, their fate lies in the author’s hands.
“I’m not gabbing with you any longer. Get the takeout for me when it arrives. I’m gonna go take a nap.”
Amelia plopped down on Tiffany’s one and only bed and dozed off in a matter of seconds.
Sometime later, Amelia was woken up by the fragrant smell of food. She walked out of the bedroom groggily, just in time to see Tiffany setting the dining table.
“Tiff, you cooked? Didn’t I say to order takeout?” Amelia asked, perplexed.
“Well, you’re jilted. I figured I better comfort you with home-cooked food instead.” Tiffany smiled.
lazing around like a couch potato is when you’re writing your manuscripts. What’s gotten
come eat. Keep yapping on
cooked. How could I miss it? But hold up—are they actually edible?” Having thrown out her last jab,
but her lips curved into
she had other than writing manuscripts. As Amelia put it, should her writing career not take off, she could seriously consider being a chef instead. Based on the magic she’d worked in the kitchen that night, it wouldn’t be too bad to be a beautiful, captivating female chef in a big
to still taste like heaven,” Amelia complimented. “I have full faith that you could compete with Gordon Ramsay
compared to you who could set fire in the kitchen by simply boiling water, it’s not that hard for me to be fantastic
soup before abruptly adding, “Tiff, do you think I could win Oscar Clinton’s heart
the billions. What food do you suppose he’s never had before? Even if he wanted home-cooked food, he has plenty of servants to do the work. When would he need your contribution? If
Tiffany’s words were a direct blow to Amelia’s confidence.
Amelia shot an aggrieved look at her. “What you said isn’t wrong. But even if we do get divorced, I don’t want his money either. It’ll make me feel as if our marriage was purely a transaction.”
Tiffany stared at her as if she was an idiot. “But isn’t that what it is? A transaction?”
It was yet another blow to Amelia’s already fragile dignity.
“Tiff, do you think I’m a fool?” she asked, her head lowering in dejection.