"Ah, the eighth of August, a good day."

I got up from my chair and tossed the half piece of bread in my hand into the trash can. I smiled simply toward Watson.

"Grace, your life after marriage looks pretty bad. You can only eat bread for lunch, huh? Are you so poor that you can't afford a bowl of noodles?" Miranda was always particularly superior when she taunted me.

To be honest, I had enough money to eat a bowl of noodles, but I didn't care what I ate myself. All my heart used to go into cooking for Watson, and I didn't even know how to love myself...