Chapter 2

In our seven years of marriage, I prepared every meal to suit his bland palate. Even the chili jar in the kitchen had gathered dust. He never thought about switching up his tastes.

Now, with one simple remark, he had an excuse for his affair.

I opened the photo and saved it.

When I refreshed the page, the post was gone.

He must have finally remembered to hide it from me.

I opened our chat, ready to type, "Stop hiding it. I've already seen it."

But then when I looked closer, the last message between us was still from the day before yesterday.

I'd forwarded a link to a new spicy stew shop and said, "I miss the taste of home so much."

He had replied with only a single word—"Disgusting".

Then this afternoon, he'd eaten it with that woman.

I stared at the screen and couldn't help but laugh.

I was laughing at myself.

I left home and spent ten years of my life for this.

The phone buzzed. My mother, Aubrey Smith, called me. She asked, "Nina, did you eat the smoked ribs I sent? Were they good?

She continued, "You can't get such flavors in Capin. I sent another batch. It'll arrive tomorrow. Cook it for yourself. Stop eating bland food just for him."

She went on and on.

After a while, she added softly, "If you're not happy, come home. I'll cook for you."

My eyes stung. I swallowed the ache in my throat and said, "Yes."

My fingers quietly dug into my palm.

When the call ended, I called Julian and asked him when he'd be home.

His voice came back hoarse from the spice.

"Go to bed. I'm out with a friend. Don't wait up," he replied.

Then, a woman's voice rose behind him. "Jules, try this spicy seafood. I had the owner make it extra spicy."

"Coming," he said before hanging up on me.

I put the phone down and looked at the bowl on the table. It had already gone cold and set.

Mom was right.

I really should go home.

I got up early the next morning.

I packed up my belongings, then went to the lawyer's office to pick up the divorce papers.

As I passed Julian's company, I ran into him and that woman.

When Julian saw me, he stopped walking.

"Nina, what are you doing here?" he asked.

I was about to say that I was only passing through and would be gone in a minute.

But the woman stepped in front of me first and smiled.

She said, "So, you're his wife. I'm Jules'... I'm Mr. Hayes' assistant, Fiona Stewart. It's nice to meet you. Shall we eat together?"

She tipped her head at Julian and suggested, "The Sorrin place we always go to?"

"He doesn't eat spice," I said. The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Julian's fingers tightened as his expression shifted.

Fiona glanced at me. Her expression was hard to read. Then she smiled. "That was before," she said.

The words were light but suffocating. My chest tightened.

Indeed, that was before.

Now, Julian not only ate spicy food—he loved it.

I followed them to the restaurant in silence.

When they ordered, Fiona took the menu.

She pointed at chili chicken and said that Julian loved chicken. It seemed that he ordered it the most often.

I remembered going back to Sorrin for the holidays. Mom's best dish was chili chicken.

Back then, he would always pick out the chicken and only eat the peanuts. He said that the heat numbed his tongue, and that it tasted awful.

Now, he was smiling and nodding, saying that this one was cooked just right.

Fiona ordered spicy fish stew too, then tipped her head at him and smiled.

"Last time, your lips got so swollen from the spice. Yet, you still forced yourself to say it was good just so you could eat the same food as me," she said.

Julian glanced at me from the corner of his eye and said in a low voice, "That was to accommodate you."

They went back and forth. I sat across from them like a stranger sharing their table.

Fiona suddenly pushed the menu toward me.

"Order something you like," she said.

I was about to speak when Julian cut in.

"She'll eat anything. Don't worry about her. Get her a…"

He stalled as his finger hovered over the menu. His brows furrowed.

"What do you even like?" he asked.

I lowered my gaze and stirred the tea in front of me. Steam curled upward, blurring my vision.

"I like spice…" I said quietly.

"Two mild dishes," Julian said. He closed the menu and told the waiter, "She eats bland food."

He never looked at me once.