By nature, I am an introvert. It was simply one of those things that shaped my personality.
Therefore, I simply desired a weekend getaway for my birthday. I started cooking, made some tea, and put candles all over my house.
I desired perfection in everything.
I wanted to cook the meal, even though I was aware that my parents would bring the birthday cake.
I had carefully planned my menu to ensure that everyone invited would have a favorite dish because I wanted everyone to feel welcome and loved. “Are you positive that you don’t want me to take you to dinner, Gabi?
” Jamie, my boyfriend, asked when we were going to get coffee the day before. “Yes,” I replied.
I want to prepare meals for us all.
There are only Nicole, Jenna, and the boys, apart from you and my parents.
Only the closest individuals. ”
He continued, “But it’s supposed to be your special day. ” Do you not desire to be pampered?
That is something I can accomplish.
You can go with me.
” I took his hand and said, “No. ”
I just wanted to be surrounded by my friends, despite how much I appreciated his sentiment. Any night, we could always eat dinner together.
I was aware that Jamie was unimpressed by my response.
He got along well with my friends and family, but if he could, he preferred to be by himself with me.
As the guests started to arrive, my excitement increased. Being at home with my favorite people had a certain appeal.
As everyone sat down to talk over a charcuterie board, the speakers played my birthday playlist, and I finished making dinner. Jamie finally came in as I was transferring dishes to the dining room table, his smile wide and contagious.
I noticed that he was carrying a large Tupperware under his arm as he followed me into the kitchen.
What is it?
” I inquired. Do I need to clear some room in the refrigerator?
Jamie gave a head shake. “Mom’s food,” he declared.
You need not be concerned about it; I’ll bring it to the table later.
It’s fine.
Even the contents of the container went unnoticed by me. I just assumed that Jamie had informed his mother that I was preparing a meal and that she wanted to add something to it.
Jamie was given instructions by me to open juice and wine bottles for the table. I also asked Jamie to carve the rosemary chicken for him after everyone had settled in and dinner had been served because it was his favorite.
He laughed as he waved it off.
I don’t require any, oh.
I brought my mother’s food. In all honesty, no one can match her cooking abilities.
The plate in my hand suddenly felt heavy, so I stopped. “Oh!
The Tupperware I said, thinking back to Jamie’s mother’s food.
He got up and said, “I’ll get it.
” What did your mother produce? In an effort to keep things light, I asked, hoping Jamie wouldn’t think I had left it in the kitchen on purpose.
Was it a favorite of mine? ” With a happy expression on his face, he returned with the container after entering the kitchen.
He replied, a little too proudly, “No.
” Simply put, her food is always superior.
You should know that you shouldn’t really trust anyone else’s food. The music was the only thing keeping the atmosphere alive, which was slowly changing as the room went silent.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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