I stepped out of the room, and Betty was nowhere to be seen.
Good, out of sight, out of mind.
I wasn't sure if Betty had a hand in the ss, but I'd been unfairly blaming her for Luna's grievances.
Leaving Luna's mansion behind, I slowly made my way out of the gate.
I walked down that familiar yet seldom-trodden road.
Should I really head ho now?
It was obvious soone was watching , which was incredibly irritating.
Eventually, I hailed a cab and headed ho, determined to shake off any tails first.
Before I knew it, I was back in my familiar neighborhood.
Though I'd only been gone a few days, it felt longer than any business trip I'd ever taken.
The familiar sights of the neighborhood greeted , yet everything felt different.
I looked up at my apartnt building but couldn't muster the courage to go up.
Still, I had to check in.
If I found a chance to leave, who knew if I'd ever return?
Torn, I finally reached my front door, where last year's Spring Festival couplets that Betty and I had hung together still adorned it.
I pulled out my keys, still kept on , and unlocked the door.
The sight that t my eyes stopped dead.
Instead of a ssy, empty room, everything was spotlessly clean and orderly.
In the center of the living room was the dining table, laden with a feast of my favorite dishes.
Betty erged from the kitchen with a dish in hand.
"Welco back, wash up and let's eat..." she said, placing the dish on the table.
Everything was so familiar; it was just like the old days when I'd co ho to a cooked al and Betty repeating that sa invitation.
It was as if nothing had changed, except Betty's eyes darted away as she spoke, and her gaunt, pale cheeks hinted that this dinner was anything but ordinary.
"What are you standing there for? Co in and eat..." Betty urged again, her voice light but trembling, betraying her nervousness.
Her words snapped back to reality.
I sighed inwardly, stepped inside, and took off my shoes.
Betty handed a pair of slippers.
I went to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and the cold water splashed on my face, clearing my thoughts instantly.
This was unexpected.
I had assud Betty would still be at Luna's, given the unresolved issues.
How could she be in the mood to co ho?
But as the saying goes, don't hit a smiling face.
Betty had prepared dinner, and regardless of what the future held, I was going to eat it.
After all, we had years of history together.
I hadn't had a proper al with her since returning from my trip, whether it was a farewell dinner or whatever.
I decided to go along with Betty for this al, not to make things difficult.
Seeing her like this softened my heart; I couldn't bear to hurt her.
The sight of the al she had prepared reminded of her constant care and encouragent over the years.
How could I harden my heart to say anything else?
I sat down at the table, silent, and began to eat.
I hadn't had much appetite lately, alternating between starving and stuffing myself, with no regular al tis.
Even the exotic delicacies at Luna's hadn't tasted particularly special.
But for so reason, eating the al Betty had prepared felt so familiar and delicious.
It wasn't that her cooking was exceptional, but I was accustod to the taste of her cooking after so many years.
I rembered feeling the sa way on business trips; no matter how lavish the work als were, I always missed Betty's cooking.
Since the trip, I hadn't had a al made by Betty.
Now, eating it felt incredibly familiar; the taste hadn't changed at all.
What had changed was the person...
Betty's cooking montarily pushed aside other thoughts.
All I wanted was to fill my stomach, which had been nearly starved these past few days.
As I ate, I noticed Betty watching , a mix of tenderness and sorrow flickering in her eyes.
She barely touched her food, spending most of the ti serving more dishes.
I focused on savoring this hard-earned al, possibly the last one I'd truly enjoy, pushing aside any lancholic thoughts.
The dishes slowly emptied, ti ticking by.
About eleven minutes in, I heard faint sobbing next to .
I knew it was Betty, trying desperately to stifle her tears, but failing.
Eventually, she let go, her crying growing louder.
Though she wept, she continued to serve , her chopsticks trembling with each sob.
Finally, she stopped, laying her head on the table, crying uncontrollably.
The food in my mouth tasted oddly out of place—cold and salty from my own tears mixing in.
I wasn't sure why I was crying.
Was it the al that brought back cherished mories?
That warmth I always treasured, was it my subconscious reluctance to let go?
Though tears stread down my face, I didn't wipe them away but kept eating, the chewing never stopping, the tears adding a bitter flavor to the otherwise delicious al.
Betty lay sobbing on the table, eventually quieting down from exhaustion.
I, too, couldn't eat anymore, having consud three tis my usual portion, perhaps because I might never taste her cooking again.
With a soft clink, I set my utensils down, the noise startling Betty awake.
She lifted her head, her face tear-streaked, even her bangs stuck to her wet cheeks.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her eyelids swollen from the tornt of not eating or sleeping well, her usually ticulous appearance now completely undone.
"I'm done eating. I'll clean up..." Betty said, dabbing her face with a napkin and forcing a small smile as she began clearing the table.
I stood there, unsure whether to stay or leave.
Should I say goodbye to Betty?
The dinner and her usual behavior had softened my heart imnsely.
Seeing her so utterly devastated yet forcing a smile, how could I bear to hurt her?
I've always been soft-hearted.
I wanted to escape, to not think about anything else, but my legs wouldn't move.
Betty cleaned the table while I stood hesitantly beside it.
Each ti she approached the table, she glanced at , her smile strained but revealing underlying tension and fear.
Perhaps she sensed what I was contemplating.
Underneath her nervous and fearful facade was a deep plea.
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