Chapter 128
Anya challenged me to a cooking duel–creating a dish that was not only healthy but also delicious for Harry. She said that Harry had a sensitive stomach and suffered from acid reflux, so his diet needed to be very carefully managed. On top of that, he was extremely picky when it came to food. Anya wanted to see for herself whether I was truly capable and worthy of being a wife who understood Harry’s needs.
“I’m not going to let him starve after getting married, Bella!” Anya declared with determination, her eyes shining like a general sending troops into battle.
“I’m not going to die just because my wife can’t cook, Anya. You’re being way too dramatic,” Harry replied lazily from the sofa, clearly uninterested in the commotion.
“Be quiet, Harry!” Anya snapped, turning to glare at him. She probably meant to look fierce, but honestly, her expression was more adorable than intimidating on her tiny face.
I decided to play along. Anya was acting like a coach training a beginner chef. The truth was, I had spent most of my life in the kitchen. But I chose to pretend like I was new to cooking just to keep her spirits high. I nodded enthusiastically and listened to all her instructions carefully, as if I was hearing them for the first time.
To my surprise, Anya actually knew a lot about Harry’s diet–what foods he couldn’t eat, which combinations to avoid. She said Harry liked spicy food, but not too spicy. Sour and oily dishes were a definite no–go.
Once we agreed on the menu, Anya asked me to repeat everything back to her. I didn’t remember every single detail, but I knew what kinds of food were safe for someone with acid reflux. Bobby used to have the same condition.
Back then, I had learned to make porridge that was soft and gentle on his stomach. Every morning at five, I would already be in the kitchen, carefully preparing all the ingredients. I was confident that no one could make porridge better than I could. Even Bobby admitted that mine was the best, and the only one that actually helped him recover.
But all of that still wasn’t enough to make me the only woman in his life.
“Bella! I told you to cook, not daydream!” Anya’s sharp voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I jolted back to reality and quickly tried to come up with an excuse. “Sorry… I was just trying to remember everything you explained earlier.“> Anya nodded, seemingly convinced. But Harry narrowed his eyes, as if he could see right through me. His gaze was intense, like he was reading my thoughts. For some reason, I felt like he knew I was lying.”
After the dishes were done, it was time for my food to be judged. Anya took a spoonful of the soup. No reaction. A second spoonful. Still silent. I started to worry. Had I lost my touch? Usually one bite was enough to earn compliments.
“Does it not taste the way you expected, Anya?” I asked carefully.
“No!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide.}
My heart raced. I quickly tasted the soup myself. It was exactly how I wanted it to be–rich and flavorful. I stared at Anya, confused.§ “Wow, Bella! This is amazing! The best soup I’ve ever tasted! How did you manage to make it this good?” Anya said excitedly, pulling me into a tight hug.2
I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. For a moment, I thought I had disappointed her.
“It is good,” Harry added as he took a spoonful.
“I just followed your instructions, Anya. This is all thanks to your guidance,” I said humbly.
“Oh, you’re too sweet! That makes me emotional, Bella. But… this is only the first round!” she said with a playful grin.
I nodded slowly. Whatever the next challenge was, I was ready to take it on. To be honest, I was enjoying my time with Anya. Her cheerful, energetic nature brought a little more color to my days. Even though she saw me as a rival, I actually considered her a friend–though she might not have realized it yet.
The next challenge? Knitting.
She said that any woman who wanted to be with Harry had to be able to knit him a scarf or a sweater for the winter. Anya had already started learning, though she hadn’t succeeded yet. But she hadn’t given up.
I could feel her sincerity. She was really trying. But what I didn’t understand was… why couldn’t Harry accept her, even after she had tried so hard?%
“I think… it would be really painful if we actually got engaged, Harry. Anya… she truly cares about you,” I said softly.
I felt a pang of guilt. I knew exactly what it felt like to be ignored and to struggle alone. And I didn’t want to be the reason another woman went through the same kind of pain.
Harry looked at me, his gaze deep and unreadable.
