Charlotte Watson didn't arrive home until three days later. When she walked in, I was lying on the couch, binge-watching a show. "Didn't you see the message I sent you?" she asked, puzzled.Without looking up, I responded, "I saw it, but I was busy at the time. I forgot about it as soon as I turned around." Charlotte gaped at me. Honestly, I couldn't blame her. In the past, whenever I received a message from her, I'd be so thrilled that I'd go downstairs and wait for her half an hour in advance. She fell silent for a moment before saying, "I haven't had anything to eat all day. Whip up something for me."Charlotte was a picky eater who couldn't stomach the boxed meals on the train. Usually, when she came home from a business trip, I'd cook a few dishes to satisfy her cravings. At that moment, the episode ended. I looked up at her and pointed to the takeout flyer on the table. "I found this in the mailbox earlier. It looks like there's a discount at a new restaurant." Her
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