My Boyfriend Chose Her Birthday Over Our Year Chapter 08

My Boyfriend Chose Her Birthday Over Our Year Chapter 08

With Ethan’s help, I picked up the London project fast. 

Within my first month, I closed a deal. Everyone cheered 

and said I had to treat them to dinner. 

I was about to agree when Ethan smiled and said, “How about I cook at my place? Maya’s probably craving something 

home–cooked by now.” 

The whole team cheered. Nothing beat a real 

home–cooked meal when you were stuck overseas. 

I hadn’t been eating much lately. The clothes I’d brought 

were starting to get loose. 

I just didn’t expect Ethan could cook. 

He played chef, so I helped in the kitchen–washing 

vegetables out of guilt. 

“Did you cook back in the States?” 

He glanced at me. “I moved here right after graduation. 

I’d never set foot in a kitchen before that. But I couldn’t take 

the food here, so I had to learn.” 

My hands stopped over the sink. 

When Lauren went on a work trip and got sick from the local food, Derek had gone to her city and cooked for her for days. 

“Lauren has a weak stomach. If I don’t go, she’ll end up with gastroenteritis.” 

him. 

He’d just learned to cook then. I’d been the one to teach 

But the first person to eat his food wasn’t me. 

Ethan’s cooking was better than I expected. As good as any restaurant back home. 

A coworker gave him a thumbs up. “I had no idea you could cook like this, Ethan. Back home you’d be worshipped.” 

“We’re just lucky Maya’s here,” another joked. “Ethan 

never showed off for us.” 

Everyone laughed. 

Ethan put food on my plate. 

I stared at the barbecue ribs and felt dizzy. 

That was how I’d first met Ethan–over ribs. 

They were the most popular thing in the dining hall. Show 

up late and you’d be stuck in line, maybe miss out entirely. 

I’d often end up in line near him. Eventually, 

whoever got there first would buy two portions and save one 

for the other. 

What Ethan never knew: those ribs were actually for 

Derek. 

He was the one who loved sweet and sour ribs. He rarely 

went to the cafeteria, usually brought food from home. I’d 

bring him an extra serving in the classroom. 

I took a bite. 

Ethan asked, “Taste like the cafeteria’s?” 

“Way better.” 

I didn’t even remember the cafeteria’s anymore. But 

Ethan’s were really good. 

After dinner, he walked me home. 

At my door, he said, “Whenever you want home cooking, just tell me. I’ll make it for you.” 

I’d started to say no–politely–but the words got stuck. 

My mom had said I’d find someone better. Maybe it was 

time to try. 

I nodded, thanked him, and got out of the car. 

Then I turned around–and Derek was standing at my 

front door. 

I stepped back, barely believing my eyes. 

Derek glared at the car driving away. Anger burned in his eyes. “Is he the reason you came here?” 

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. 

He staggered, hand over his cheek, staring at me in shock. 

In all our time together, I’d never hit anyone. 

My palm stung. The numbness crawled up my arm and 

into my chest. 

I said coldly, “Are you awake now?“