Before Clara could utter another word, the phone was abruptly hung up. The busy tone rang, as if mocking her unrequited love. Clara slowly got up and walked to the mirror—the woman in the mirror had a puffy face, dark circles under her eyes, and loose loungewear clung to her body like a thick layer of cotton. She raised her hand and pinched her arm; it was all soft fat, and the firm muscle lines she used to have when she was a dancer were nowhere to be found.
"Let's just consider this one last meal for them before I leave." Clara sighed at her reflection in the mirror, her fingertips tracing the water stains on the surface, as if caressing the shattered past.
As evening fell, the front door opened. Liam led Lila in, Vanessa linked arms with him, and the three of them walked in, chatting and laughing. Vanessa held a drawing in her hand, a "family portrait" drawn by Lila—it included her father, Vanessa, and herself in a princess dress, but Clara was nowhere to be seen. Liam took the drawing, smiled, and ruffled Lila's hair: "Our Lila drew so well, even better than her kindergarten teacher."
The scene was too jarring. Clara stood in the kitchen doorway, feeling like an intruder. The table was already set with dishes: spicy chicken, boiled fish, and Mapo tofu—all the spicy dishes that Liam and Lila loved. Over the years, to cater to their tastes, Clara had forced herself to transform from a girl from Jiangnan who couldn't eat spicy food into someone who couldn't live without chili peppers at every meal. Stomach medicine was always kept in the table drawer, but they had never asked her, "Does your stomach still hurt?"
"Wow! It smells so good!" Lila sniffed exaggeratedly, and before everyone could sit down, she eagerly picked up her chopsticks and grabbed a piece of spicy chicken.
Vanessa suddenly teared up, covered her mouth, and coughed softly, her chopsticks hovering in mid-air, unwilling to move. Liam immediately put down his cup and anxiously felt her forehead: "What's wrong? Did you choke on the chili?"
“I…I’m currently controlling my sugar and oil intake, so I can’t eat anything too oily or spicy…” Vanessa’s voice trembled with tears, which streamed down her face like a broken string of pearls. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t explain things clearly to Aunt Su beforehand, and she did all that work for nothing…”
Liam's gaze instantly turned cold as he glared at Clara: "Clara, didn't I tell you that Vanessa needs to maintain her figure? I asked you to cook healthier dishes, can't you understand human language? So many chili peppers, are you trying to kill her?"
Lila's face fell, and she slammed her chopsticks on the table, yelling at Clara, "Teacher Vanessa doesn't eat spicy food! Why did you make so many spicy dishes? You bad woman!" She pointed to the kitchen and ordered imperiously, "Teacher Vanessa loves seafood, go and make it for her again! Steamed shrimp, garlic scallops, and cream of mushroom soup!"
Clara stood rooted to the spot, her body ice-cold. Liam and Lila both knew she was allergic to seafood—three years ago, she accidentally ate a shrimp, her throat swelled up instantly, and she nearly choked. Liam had even frowned and said, "How could you be so careless?" But now, they had completely forgotten. She remembered how she hadn't touched spicy or greasy food for three years to practice dancing, and now she was sacrificing herself for them, only to receive nothing in return, not even a simple "Remember you can't eat spicy food."
“This is too much trouble for Clara…” Vanessa tugged at Liam’s sleeve feigning concern, but a smug smile lurked in her eyes. “Actually, I’ll just have some plain porridge…”
"No!" Lila interrupted her, slamming her little hand on the table. "Teacher Vanessa can't eat this awful stuff! That fat bastard does nothing all day, not even a proper meal. What else can she possibly do!"
The words "fat bastard" hit Clara like a hammer blow, making her vision blur. She trembled with rage, grabbed the chopsticks from the table, and slammed them to the floor: "Why should I redo it? I've had enough of this!"
The chopsticks fell to the floor with a crisp sound. Liam's face darkened. He stood up and walked over to her, his tone authoritative and leaving no room for argument: "Clara, can't you be a little more sensible? Lila is still young, and Vanessa is a guest. How can you be less reasonable than a child?"
With Liam backing her up, Lila seemed to have been set ablaze. She rushed to the dining table, her little hands sweeping haphazardly across the plates—with a "crash," the entire table of food was swept to the floor. Red chili oil splattered onto Clara's arm, the scalding heat sending a burning sensation through her. She instinctively pulled her hand away, only to see Liam immediately shield Vanessa behind him, as if afraid the oil would splash onto her.
"Your cooking is awful! And you won't let Teacher Vanessa eat! You bad woman!" Lila shouted, jumping up and down, her little face full of disgust. "I put sleeping pills in your milk! That way Teacher Vanessa can go to kindergarten and be my mom! All the classmates say Teacher Vanessa is beautiful and gentle, she's like my mom! Unlike you, you only deserve to be an ugly, fat maid at home!"
