My Chef Husband Refused to Cook for Me but Fed My Student Chapter 05

My Chef Husband Refused to Cook for Me but Fed My Student Chapter 05

Renner sprinted home like he’d lost his mind.

His hands shook so bad he could barely slide the key into the lock. He twisted it twice before the front door clicked open.

The house was deathly quief, empty

Every trace of the meal had been cleared away entirely. The kitchen stood bare, its stovetop cold just like every other ordinary day before this.

Renner stood rigid in the doorway, a hollow gnawing ache tearing through his chest.

The two cakes still sat untouched on the coffee table.

The frosting had collapsed completely. Dark red juice oozed from the berries, bleeding into the pale cream like dried, faded bloodstains.

He stepped into the bedroom. The closet doors hung wide open, the entire left half stripped bare. Only one toothbrush cup remained in the bathroom vanity, my towel was gone without a trace.

I had really left.

The realization dropped like a stone straight through his heart.

He sank onto the side of the bed, on the half I’d always slept in.

Her faint scent lingered on the pillowcase. He pressed his face deep into the fabric and drew in a ragged breath, desperate to drag every last wisp of my presence into his lungs.

His fingers brushed a small plastic bottle tucked beneath the pillow. He pulled it out-stomach relief medication.

Memories crashed over him all at once.

I took this every single night before bed.

There were nights he’d stayed up gaming till two or three AM, hearing my fumble in the dark to twist open the bottle cap. Back then he’d only found the tiny clicking noise annoying, assumed I was popping some random daily supplement.

So I’d been fighting unbearable stomach pain all along.

Renner sat upright and yanked open the nightstand drawer. A folded slip of paper slipped out from the side, drifting softly down to the floor.

He picked it up and unfolded it.

A formal stomach disorder diagnosis form.

Patient: Seren Veyra Diagnosts:

Chronic non-atrophic gastritis with gastric mucosal erosion

Cause: Long-term irregular eating habits, primary reliance on takeout

Recommendations: Consistent three daily meals, avoid cold and harsh irritants, stick to mild gentle

home cooking.

Renner crumpled the paper tight in his fist, a flood of old memories crashing through his head.

Back when he’d worked out of a tiny studio kitchen, whipping up stir-fries for me and my fellow medical staff, his clothes were always soaked through with cooking fumes.

On subway rides, strangers would cover their noses and shuffle away from him, staring like he

carried something filthy.

He’d scrub himself raw in the shower and use heavily scented laundry detergent, but the smoky

stench clung to his skin, impossible to wash away.

That’s when he’d grown to hate the smell of fumes.

Once he’d made a name for himself, opened his upscale farm-to-table fine dining bistro and hired

a full kitchen staff, he never had to man a wok again.

At home, he avoided the stovetop entirely, actively shied away from cooking anything for me. Every

time he brushed off my quiet requests, I’d just nod and say it was fine.

He’d never imagined I’d quietly survive on takeout for seven whole years, letting my stomach

lining erode bit by bit.

Renner buried his face in his palms, his shoulders shaking violently with silent sobs.

His phone buzzed once inside his pocket. He fumbled it out in a rush.

A text from Liora.

Liora: [Chef Renner, are you home yet? Is my mentor alright?]

It wasn’t me.

He tossed the phone aside roughly.

When exactly had things fallen apart between him and me?

It was Liora.

The thought hit him sharp and unbidden.

She’d always rambled to him about how talented her mentor was while whining about how worn thin she felt, making him feel needed and indispensable.

Her social feeds were flooded with bright, loud posts, broadcasting every small favor he’d done for her for everyone to see. She’d kept going on and on about girlfriends and what they deserved…

Had she really only come to learn cooking, or was there more to it?

Renner grabbed his car keys off the counter and bolted straight out the front door.

He needed to find Liora and get the whole truth out of her.