“What’s wrong?” Micah asked as he noticed Hattie staring at her phone in silence.
“Nothing,” Hattie replied, casually putting her phone back in her pocket as if nothing had happened.
Hattie smoothly changed the topic, “Micah, are you going back to work tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he replied. He had only taken a week off, and the hospital was very busy. He had squeezed out this week off, fearing he wouldn’t be able to rest for another month.
“What’s wrong? Do you want to go somewhere?” Micah looked at the villa, guessing what Hattie meant when she said she wanted to come here.
He had never asked about Hattie’s background, but he had found out some things online. This place… had once been Hattie’s home.
“Do you want to go in and take a look?” Micah asked.
Hattie shook her head. “Just standing here is enough.” Even if it was well-preserved, it wasn’t her home anymore.
When her parents died, Hattie did not show much grief. Many people cried at the funeral, and there were arguments. Those relatives saw her not crying and scolded her, calling her heartless for not shedding a tear even when her parents died. This unlikable child was not loved by anyone and no one would want her.
They asked her why she wasn’t crying.
She didn’t know either. She couldn’t cry. There was a moment when she even felt like her parents were not dead, just asleep, or had gone to another place early to welcome her. The three of them would always reunite.
When she returned home alone, the eleven-year-old Hattie curled up in a chair, holding a yellowed stuffed rabbit toy. She fell asleep as usual and woke up hungry. She opened her eyes and called out, “Mom, I’m hungry…”
She rubbed her hot eyes, and the room was dark and quiet, no one answered her.
That was when she truly felt sad, realizing that she was the only one left in the world.
She rubbed her teary eyes and went to the kitchen to cook like her mother. She cooked a pot of porridge. There was no refrigerator at home, and they bought groceries daily. The yellowed vegetables left in the house were ones her mother picked from the reject pile at the market.
Hattie washed some vegetable leaves and cooked a pot of soup. Surprisingly, the taste was better than what her mother used to make.
Once a table for three, then two, now only one person.
Even the shadows on the wall felt lonely. Looking at her own shadow on the wall, she suddenly felt sorry for herself, as pathetic as she was.
Hattie had been pampered at home, even when they went bankrupt, her mother would smile and tell her, “Hattie, it’s okay, Mom is here.”
With her parents in her heart, she always had confidence that nothing could bring her down as long as they were around.
After going bankrupt, the life with servants was no longer a dream. Her mother, who used to be dressed elegantly with gold and silver jewelry, cut her hair short, removed her bracelets, and wore clothes worth a few dollars from a roadside stand. She did things she wasn’t good at every day, like laundry and cooking, but her cooking was still not good.
When hungry, she could swallow anything unappetizing.
In Hattie’s heart, her parents were the strongest beings in the world. Nothing could defeat them. Until one night when Hattie heard her mother crying, she silently made up her mind to grow up well and take care of her mother and wait for her father in the future.
But before she could grow up, both her parents died. She had many regrets, the biggest one being that in her parents’ eyes, she was always the child who never grew up.
The first time Hattie cooked, she burnt her hand several times, eating the burnt porridge. That night, she ate three bowls of porridge, until her stomach was bloated and her throat felt blocked, nauseous, but she kept eating as if there was a bottomless pit inside her.
By the end, the soup became saltier, and tears uncontrollably dripped into the bowl before she drank them.
She wondered, if her mother could taste the food she made, would she feel a hint of relief?
Now someone told her that her parents did not commit suicide, but were murdered. How could Hattie not care? She was supposed to have her parents, and she could have lived a good life.
A tsunami of emotions surged inside Hattie, but her face remained calm.
After leaving the place, she returned to Micah’s house with him and they bought some groceries nearby.
“I’ll cook dinner tonight,” Hattie quickly grabbed an apron.
“Then I’ll help,” Micah offered.
One washing the vegetables, the other cooking, they worked well together. They could make a meal that would usually take an hour to cook in just forty minutes.
Just a simple evening, with a meat dish, a vegetarian dish, and a soup – all home-cooked dishes. Hattie’s cooking skills did not inherit the dark cuisine from her mother.
Colorful, fragrant, and appetizing, the food looked delicious. Both Hattie and Micah had small appetites. Hattie only ate a small bowl and felt full, leaving the rest for Micah.
She had cooked for Harry before, but she had never felt this satisfied, maybe because Harry never finished the meal? Or maybe it was because of who was eating it.
“Do we have any wine at home?” Hattie asked.
“We have some wine. Want to drink?” Micah stood up as he spoke.
“Can you drink wine if you have to work tomorrow?”
“A little wine won’t hurt. It’s low in alcohol, like juice,” Micah found a bottle of wine in the liquor cabinet. They rarely had alcohol at home, and the wine left was with low alcohol content, hence it was kept.
Drinking too much could lead to trouble and had many risks. Besides wine, Micah didn’t smoke.
Micah opened the bottle and poured two small glasses of wine, placing one in front of Hattie.
The red liquid in the transparent glass sparkled in the light. Hattie raised the glass and took a sip. It tasted good, without much alcohol taste.
“Cheers,” Hattie raised her glass.
Micah felt Hattie had something on her mind, but before he could think too much, they clinked glasses.
Hattie’s face flushed easily after drinking, and even with the low alcohol content, her face was already red. She swayed the wine glass. “Micah, let’s toast to a brighter future. Cheers to our future.”
Micah followed suit, “Cheers to our future.”
Hattie took a big sip, the fiery sensation in her throat, making her nose tingle. She called out, hoarse, “Micah.”
She thought it was a soft call, but to her surprise, Micah responded.
“Mhm.”
It was a soft response, like a feather soothing the discomfort in her heart, yet it felt like plunging into a warm bath, impossible to resist.
“Micah!” Hattie called out again, laughing at Micah. She seemed tipsy, her eyes blurred.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Mi-cah, Mi-cah, Mi-cah…”
“I’m here, here, here…” Micah would respond no matter how many times Hattie called him.
One side was a subconscious fantasy, the other was the reality trying to pull her out of it.
Hattie opened her mouth, but this time, no sound came out. Her heart pounded fiercely, saying, Micah, I wish for your future to shine, for you to have a bright future. In the name of a passing acquaintance, I wish you all the best, happiness and success.
“Hattie, you will have a home.” This time, it was Micah who spoke. “Dr. Mason may not be romantic now, the timing may not be right, but I can’t help but ask you a question. Will you marry me, from the doctor’s white coat to a white wedding dress? Will you marry me?”
He unwittingly tightened the wine glass in his hand, feeling ‘drunk’ for the first time. The heat on his face wouldn’t dissipate.