Memorizing Baking Rules

Seven years have passed since Margaret, my husband's ex-wife, orchestrated that explosion in downtown Oakwood. It left me a fool and crippled Larry's left hand. Ever since, I've been the burden he can't shake off. Today, upon her release from prison, she returned to her wealthy family as the young mistress. At the welcome-back banquet in her honor, Margaret suddenly proposed a game of Truth or Dare. No one dared object. The bottle spun and spun before finally landing squarely on Larry. Margaret smiled. "Larry, all these years, have you ever regretted saving this fool and ruining your life?" After a long silence, he said calmly, "I have." Her smile widened. "Then divorce her, Larry. Leave this fool and come back to me. My father's company will be yours." Back in the basement, he slammed a bottle of poison in front of me. "Olivia, you said you didn't want a divorce. Drink this, and we'll stay married." Terrified, I hesitantly reached for the bottle. "Okay!" ...... That day, an unfamiliar luxury car pulled up before our run-down building. The visitor was Larry's former comrade, now exuding condescension. "Larry, Ms. Margaret is hosting a banquet at Sky Peak," he said, glancing at me with undisguised disdain. "To settle your domestic affairs as well." After a prolonged silence, Larry finally nodded. He dressed me in a faded, washed-out dress and led me from that sunless basement. Sky Peak Club—Oakwood's most exclusive playground for the rich. Inside the private room, lights blazed, and the air was thick with perfume and the rustle of silk. Margaret sat at the head of the table in a custom-made gown, her makeup flawless—a world apart from the woman in prison uniform seven years ago. Seeing us, she curled her lips into an amused smile. "Larry, you made it. And this is... oh, Olivia. Silly me, I almost forgot you still drag this little fool around." A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the room. Larry's body stiffened briefly. He shielded me behind him, his voice low. "Margaret, what exactly do you want?" "Nothing much." Margaret picked up her wine glass, swirling the red liquid inside. "It's been seven years. Just catching up. I heard you're delivering takeout now? What a shame. Oakwood's youngest bomb disposal hero back in the day, and now you can't even lift your left hand." Every word cut like a knife into Larry's pride. His face grew paler, and his grip on my hand tightened unconsciously. "Let's play a game," Margaret suggested suddenly. "Truth or Dare. How about it?" No one dared to object. The bottle spun several times, landing squarely on Larry once more. Margaret smiled, her expression ripe with vindication. "Larry, choose truth. Tell me, over these seven years, have you ever regretted ruining your life to save this fool?" All eyes were on Larry. I couldn't decipher the complexity in his gaze, only feeling the slight tremor in his hand as he held mine. He was silent for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then, in a voice so calm it was almost cruel, he said, "I have."