As soon as Winifred Dawson was picked up, she woke up startled. Seeing that it was Garrison Reeves holding her, she immediately relaxed.
Drowsily, she asked, “Has the movie finished?”
“Almost.”
“Oh.” Winifred didn’t doubt Garrison’s words. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and yawned, looking exhausted. “What was the ending? Did the two end up together?”
“They did, and they had a child.”
Garrison hadn’t actually watched the ending. When he left, the movie showed the main characters getting married and expecting a baby. He assumed that any movie released on Valentine’s Day for couples would have a perfect ending.
In reality, the movie’s ending was that the main characters got together, then separated, and one of them died in the end.
Winifred was used to being held by Garrison and felt no discomfort. However, she worried about his arms getting tired since he was carrying her in his arms, which required significant arm strength.
“You can put me down.”
“I’m not tired,” he said, giving her a little bounce.
Winifred let out a sharp little cry and quickly wrapped her arms around Garrison’s neck. Her scream attracted attention from people around them. Embarrassed, she buried her face in his chest. “There are so many people around; it’s not good if they see us being so intimate.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m holding my girlfriend; it’s perfectly natural. Today is Valentine’s Day; it’s meant for couples to show off their love and make others jealous.”
Feeling even more eyes on her, Winifred couldn’t bring herself to look up anymore and curled up in Garrison’s arms. After a while, she changed the subject.
“What are we having for dinner?”
“Are you hungry?”
“A little, but not very.”
“Let’s go home. I’ll cook for you.”
“You can cook?” Winifred looked up in surprise, forgetting about the people around them. She didn’t know Garrison could cook. When they were together at home, there was always a housekeeper responsible for cooking. In the hospital, the housekeeper would bring nutritious meals or Garrison would order takeout delivered by his assistant.
She had never seen Garrison cook before.
“I couldn’t before,” Garrison explained. “But after we got together, I slowly learned. Now I can cook and want you to try my cooking. Isn’t there a saying online that if you can’t cook, you won’t find a wife? When we get married and live together, I’ll cook for you every day.”
Winifred imagined Garrison in a pink floral apron cooking for her and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Ha!”
As soon as she laughed, images of another man cooking flashed through her mind. Her smile froze.
“What are you thinking about? You look so happy.”
“Nothing, just looking forward to tonight and wondering what delicious food you’ll make.”
“I should warn you; if it doesn’t taste good, don’t say it out loud.”
“I might have to; how else will you improve?”
“Good point.” As they chatted back and forth, Garrison carried Winifred to the car in a lighthearted atmosphere.
The driver drove steadily home within half an hour. The housekeeper had already bought groceries and stocked the fridge.
Garrison knew how to make only a few simple dishes he had learned from the housekeeper over some time.
He rarely entered the kitchen and wasn’t familiar with seasonings at all. But he had a good memory.
Remembering recipes was one thing; executing them was another challenge entirely. He often struggled with controlling the heat-either undercooking or burning the food. The first time he cooked, he nearly set the kitchen on fire and panicked until the housekeeper intervened just in time.
For others, cooking was just cooking; for Garrison, it felt like going to war. The housekeeper once advised him to stop trying since he had plenty of money to hire cooks or servants. Why waste time on something he wasn’t good at?
But Garrison wouldn’t listen; he insisted on learning. It took him an entire morning to master tomato omelet-barely edible at best.
Next, he learned pepper steak and fried potatoes-common yet simple dishes.
He could eventually cook them without burning or undercooking them too much but struggled with seasoning quantities. He didn’t understand what “a little” or “appropriate amount” meant.
So he bought a food scale to measure ingredients precisely. He asked the housekeeper to write down the amount of seasoning she put in every dish she cook, so he wouldn’t over-season his dishes anymore.
After a week of constant practice, he finally managed to cook decent meals and felt like he’d unlocked some hidden potential. Knowing how much seasoning to use made cooking easier for him.
Perhaps because of a lack of talent in cooking, his dishes were edible but not as tasty as those made by the housekeeper even when he used the same ingredients under her supervision.
For this Valentine’s Day dinner, Garrison planned to showcase his skills by preparing one meat dish, one vegetable dish, and soup.
The meat dish was stir-fried pork; the vegetable dish was shredded potatoes; and the soup was tomato and egg soup-all prepared within forty minutes.
Winifred watched him cook with amazement again.
As she stared at his busy figure in the kitchen, more images flashed through her mind.
When he served dinner and handed her spoon and bow, l eagerly saying, “Try it,”
“Okay.” Winifred picked up some shredded potatoes without much expression on her face as she ate seriously, but she frowned slightly before trying some meat, which tasted salty, and then she took a sip of soup.
“How is it?” asked Garrison expectantly.
“I feel like you’ve cooked for me before-and it tasted better than this,” Winifred blurted out unconsciously.
Garrison’s expression froze instantly as his hopeful mood plummeted like a roller coaster descending into despair.
He didn’t know how to cook at all before. He had recently learned these dishes; the person cooked better must be Leland Burns, who had lived together with Winifred.
This wasn’t new-it kept happening whenever they were together-why did memories of Leland keep surfacing?
“What did you remember?” His tone turned sour,
Winifred paused eating with a pale look and shook her head. “Nothing…Did I remember wrong?”
“Maybe your memory is jumbled-but yes-I did cook for you before-but stopped after you left.”
“Then why didn’t you cook earlier? I only ate what housekeepers made,” muttered Winifred softly.
“You were gone too long-I forgot.”
“Really?” Winifred looked doubtful-could someone forget how to cook? She didn’t dwell on it and continued eating. The food tasted average but knowing Garrison cooked made it special.
“Maybe your memories got mixed up. You might’ve mistaken housekeepers’ cooking for mine.”
That explanation seemed plausible enough. Winifred said suddenly, “I want your noodles. I remember them being delicious. I’m not sure if I’m wrong…”
“Do you want them now?”
“Tomorrow morning, We have plenty tonight. Sit down eat with me,”
“Alright.” He didn’t want lying but felt resentful. Despite so many bad things Leland did to Winifred, she could remember him fondly.
Was treating her badly what made her remember Leland more?
Wasn’t that twisted?
Garrison felt determined replacing Leland’s place inside Winifred’s heart,
After dinner, Garrison cleaned the table and washed the dishes.
Feeling a prickle of unease, she stood up and followed him into the kitchen. From the unfamiliar way that he washed the dishes, she could tell that Garrison seldom cooked.
Leaning against the wall, she said “Lately I’ve been recalling past bits-short fragmented memories-do you think I’ll remember everything soon? I really want knowing our past.”
Garrison paused washing. He didn’t want her to remember it at all despite her desire to remember the past.