My Chef Husband Refused to Cook for Me but Fed My Student Chapter 09

My Chef Husband Refused to Cook for Me but Fed My Student Chapter 09

Three Years Later.

The old chief physician retired, and I transferred back to my original downtown hospital.

Liora waited for me by the lobby doors downstairs. She’d slimmed down and cut her hair short, an

Attending Physician name tag clipped to her lab coat.

“Mentor!” She ran over, tears flooding her eyes instantly. “You’re finally back.”

I gave a faint smile. “It’s not like we never ran into each other.”

She tangled her fingers through mine as we walked, rambling nonstop.

“I’ve been dying to say this… I’m so sorry.”

“I was young and reckless back then. I got way too close to Renner and never kept proper

boundaries…”

She dropped her gaze, her voice quiet and heavy.

“I hurt you so badly.”

I patted the back of her hand gently.

“It’s fine. All water under the bridge now.”

Liora looked up at me, dead serious.

“I want to treat you to dinner. My partner and I, to welcome you back.”

I thought it over for a second then nodded. “Sounds good.”

Liora lit up, then hesitated as a thought hit her.

“Mentor, do you know what happened to Renner after he left the MTF?”

My fingers froze mid-scroll on my phone.

“Word is he shut down all his restaurants and quit every cooking show. He said he wanted to walk away from all the fame and find real, simple flavor again.”

She shot me a quick glance. “No one’s heard a word about where he went.

i slipped my phone back into my coat pocket.

“I don’t know. I hope he finds whatever he’s looking for.”

That evening, Liora took me to a tiny family diner tucked down a narrow side street.

The diner had a tiny front facade. Its sign was faded and streaked with kitchen grease, the letters almost unrecognizable. Every table inside was crammed with customers.

Lila’s partner was quiet and didn’t talk much, but silently piled food onto Lila’s plate the whole

meal.

I sat across from them, a soft, genuine smile forming on my face without me noticing. They looked

happy, truly content together.

Plate after plate of comfort food came out.

Savory sausage stir-fry, crispy pork bites, tomato egg scramble. No fancy plating or decorative garnishes, but every bite tasted warm and homemade.

When we finished most of our meal, I headed to the restroom.

I leaned over the sink to wash my hands, then suddenly realized my finger felt bare.

Panic twisted in my chest. I bent down and scanned the floor frantically.

The hall was tight, only dim yellow ceiling lights lighting the way. I turned the corner and ran

straight into a person.

“Sorry-”

I lifted my head, and all words died in my throat.

A man stood right in front of me.

He wore a faded wrinkled tee, a dish towel slung over one shoulder, his apron covered head-to-toe in grease stains.

He’d lost so much weight, his cheeks flushed hot from hours standing over the stove. Old and fresh burn scars crisscrossed both his hands.

It was Renner.

Our gazes snapped together, and he froze solid. The ceramic platter in his hands almost slipped

away.

“Veyra?”

“What are you doing working here?” I asked flatly.

“I’m the line cook here.”

“Why?”

He stared down at his grease-stained hands, his voice low.

“I’m chasing real flavor. Trying to find who I used to be.”

I nodded once, no emotion showing on my face.

He suddenly lifted his head, a bright spark in his eyes I hadn’t seen in years.

“Seren.”

I hummed in reply.

“If I can get back to the person I once was…” He paused, his tone dropping to a soft whisper. “Would you ever give us another shot?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I bent back down and kept searching the floor.

“What are you looking for?”

“My engagement ring.”

Renner’s voice vanished completely. He knelt down beside me to help search.

A diamond glint caught the light, and we both spotted it at the exact same time. We reached down to

grab it together, our knuckles brushing.

I pulled my hand away fast and stood back up.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

In the distance, Liora had finished paying the bill and called me to leave.

“I’m heading out then.”

“Take care.”

Renner slouched his shoulders and headed back through the kitchen’s swinging doors.

I called out before he stepped in the kitchen.

“Your tomato egg scramble tastes way better than it did three years ago.

Renner never turned around, but his shoulders trembled faintly.

I turned and walked out of that tight alley.

No footsteps followed behind me.

We’d split paths for good, both free to live our own bright, happy lives from here on out.