One bite of tofu pudding, one bite of fried cake, occasionally inhaling softly from the heat.
My face showed genuine satisfaction from the taste.
Sheena didn't touch her food.
She just watched me, her expression slowly shifting from complex to heartbroken.
The Charles she remembered had been impossibly picky with food—even Michelin three-star dishes could sometimes fail to impress him.
Now, he sat on a greasy little stool by the roadside, eating less than twenty dollar's worth of food, and yet he looked as if he were savoring a feast.
The contrast was more striking than any words could describe.
When I finished my portion and saw she still hadn't eaten, I pointed at the bowl in front of her.
"It'll taste better warm. Not quite what you're used to, but it's good—try it."
It was like a wake-up call. Her eyelashes fluttered as she slowly picked up the spoon, took a small piece of rice cake, and tasted it.
"Charles..."
Sheena set down her spoon and opened her expensive bag again.
This time, she didn't pull out cash, but a bank card.
"There's three million on it. The password is my birthday."
I didn't look at the card.
"Eat. The tofu pudding will get cold."