The table was set with a feast that looked and smelled incredible. Hannah couldn’t stop praising Scott.
“Scott, you’re amazing! This food is delicious! Don’t you think so, Lillian?”
I gave a neutral nod. “I had no idea he could cook like this!”
Unfortunately, everything on the table was drenched in spice.
Hannah eagerly served Scott a piece of spicy water-boiled beef.
He ate it without a hint of hesitation, nodding approvingly.
I used to be a huge fan of spicy food myself. On my first weekend after moving in, I prepared an entire spread of spicy dishes.
The setup was the same, the water-boiled beef just as fiery.
But as soon as Scott tasted it, he spat it out, scrunching his face.
“This is too spicy! How is anyone supposed to eat this?”
Without a second glance at me or our guests, he stormed off to bed, slamming the door behind him.
From then on, whenever I cooked, everything had to be mild.
It wasn’t that Scott couldn’t handle spice. He just needed to see who was cooking.
They were eagerly serving themselves, and when they noticed I hadn’t touched my food, Scott's irritation was palpable.
“Scott worked hard on this meal. Why aren’t you eating, Lillian? Are you still upset with him?”
Hannah’s tone dripped with sarcasm, making Scott’s expression darken further.
“Lillian, why are you showing the attitude? I didn’t force you to go on that rescue mission; you chose to do it yourself.”
I stood up and gestured toward the dishes.
“From doctor’s orders, I should have no spicy food.”
Go ahead and eat if you want.”
Scott’s anger shifted to embarrassment.
“Scott, you should be gentler when you talk to girls.”
Hannah tugged at his sleeve, clearly trying to help him out of the awkward moment. “Apologize and make it right!”
“Lillian, I’m sorry for not answering your call that day. It was my fault,” Scott apologized.
But it was clear he was only doing it because Hannah suggested it.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Hannah thought everything Scott did was perfect.
“See, Scott apologized. You shouldn’t stay mad.”
“Otherwise, Scott won’t be in the mood to paint with me later!”
Their skewed logic was maddening.
“I’m fine, really. You’re making it seem like I have to be upset!”
I had no desire to watch their performance any longer. I left the room and resolved to move out as soon as I could.
In the afternoon, I saw Hannah’s new post on social media.
The caption read, “Like a Painting.”