Evelyn's eyes snapped open to find herself hugging Carlos, a sight that had become all too familiar. Gently, she released him and rolled out of bed, her heart racing as she glanced at her phone. It was only 4 o'clock in the morning. With a quiet resolve, she opened the door and tiptoed out.
In the dining room, she found the old butler, half asleep and stifling a yawn. "Grandpa," she whispered, and he sprang to attention.
"Did you prepare the ingredients?" she asked, keeping her voice low, and he nodded affirmatively.
"Thank you," she said, gratitude warming her heart as she slipped into the kitchen.
As she donned her apron, she couldn't help but reflect on her upbringing. She silently thanked her stepmother for inadvertently teaching her to cook—she had never lifted a finger in the kitchen until her father fell ill. That necessity forced her to step into roles typically reserved for the maids.
Though the butler struggled to pin down Carlos's favorite dish, he had provided her with enough clues that she hoped would guide her. She was determined to impress him, even if she felt only a flicker of confidence. After all, even the best chefs in the house couldn't seem to win his appetite.
She is also using this to execute the step #8 among the screenshots she saved. "Cook for him," it said, and she hoped this would be her ticket to his heart.
Meanwhile, Carlos sat at the edge of the bed, already awake when Evelyn had stirred. Little did she know, she was the reason he can sleep well...
As he dressed, he couldn't shake his curiosity about what had compelled her to wake up so early. He ventured downstairs, and the sight that greeted him made him blink in surprise. There she was, setting the dining table with an undeniable air of chaotic determination. Her hair was a frizzy mess, dusted with traces of onions and pepper, and her nose was speckled with traces of oil. Her apron? A disaster.
'So this is what she's up to,' he mused as he approached her, hands slipping casually into his pockets.
"Good morning!" she beamed, and her smile lit up her face. He stepped closer, and she held his gaze, scrunching her fingers nervously. What was he going to do? Was her plan already succeeding? Would he finally acknowledge her effort with a head pat?
But as he plucked an onion from the table, her smile faded. Realizing her disheveled appearance, embarrassment washed over her, and she dashed back upstairs, flustered.
She hurriedly bathed and dressed, anxiety prickling at her heart as she feared he might lose interest and leave again without tasting her cooking. When she finally returned to the dining area, she brightly announced, "I prepared—"
But before she could finish, his secretary appeared at the doorway. "I have to go," Carlos said, standing up.
A wave of frustration surged through her, and she almost cursed at the well-timed interruption.
The butler glanced at Evelyn, sensing her mounting distress, and felt for the young lady on the brink of tears. She had poured her heart into the meal, spending all morning in the kitchen.
Crossing her arms, she crossed him, fury ignited within Evelyn. "If you leave now without eating, I'm going to die! I'm going to kill myself!!!" she exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a desperate mix of anger and frustration, equal parts comedic and dramatic.
Carlos paused, taken aback by her outburst, and for the first time, he let the corners of his mouth twitch in a hint of amusement. 'You really are something, aren't you?' he thought as he watched her.