Hugo loved beef, so every day, without fail, I bought a pound of beef shank, slow-cooked it until tender, sliced it with precision, and arranged it neatly on a delicate porcelain plate.
Jasper had a taste for sweet and sour dishes, sweet and sour fish, sweet and sour ribs, and squirrel fish; he loved them all.
He despised green onions, ginger, and garlic, so before serving his meals, I meticulously picked out every trace of them.
Father and son were both impossibly particular about their food. To prepare a single meal, I spent over two hours standing in the kitchen, ensuring everything was just right.
But now, I was leaving.
No longer would I exhaust myself catering to their every whim.
For the next two days, I had only one goal: learning how to please myself.
I pushed open the wardrobe door, greeted by a neat row of long, conservative dresses.
Shoving them aside, I reached for an unopened pink gift box hidden at the back, a birthday present I had bought for myself on my thirtieth birthday. Inside lay a strapless, blush-pink ball gown with a low waistline, untouched, waiting.