Chapter 3

I held the phone, my voice incredibly calm.

"Mom, what exactly did he tell you?"

My mom sighed on the other end.

"Ethan said he was worried about you being sick, so he tried his best to cook for you even though he doesn't know how. Because he didn't do a perfect job, you got angry and threw away a really expensive pot."

"Chloe, I'm telling you this for your own good. Where else are you going to find a guy like Ethan who doesn't party, doesn't drink, and comes straight home after work?"

"He's a man. How many men are naturally good at chores? You just need to teach him slowly. Blowing up like this only ruins your relationship."

I stared at Ethan. He had his head slightly bowed, looking like an incredibly wronged, pitiful boy.

I couldn’t see a shred of genuine remorse on his face. He was just waiting for me to back down.

I spoke into the phone: "Mom, I'm in a relationship, not running a daycare."

"If he wants to grow up, tell his own mother to teach him."

"How can you talk like that!" my mom gasped.

"In a relationship, there's always friction. Just apologize, and this will blow over. You guys are literally talking about getting engaged. Don't ruin it by being dramatic."

I hung up on her.

Seeing me end the call, Ethan immediately put on a generous, magnanimous face.

"Chloe, your mom is just looking out for us. I know you're sick and cranky, so I won't hold it against you."

"Forget about the pot. I'll buy a new one later. Go back to bed and rest, okay? Don't be mad."

He reached out, trying to grab my arm.

I stepped back, dodging his hand.

"Don't touch me."

Right as the words left my mouth, the doorbell rang.

Ethan’s expression stiffened, and he quickly turned to open the door.

Standing outside was a middle-aged woman carrying several heavy grocery bags. It was Helen, Ethan’s mother.

"Oh, my sweet boy! Help me with these, they are so heavy."

Helen squeezed past him and dumped the bags on the floor.

She looked up, her eyes immediately locking onto me. "Chloe, Ethan said you were sick? I bought a whole chicken to make you some fresh soup. You young people really don't know how to take care of yourselves."

As she took off her shoes, she peered into the apartment.

The moment her eyes swept over the disaster zone that was the kitchen, her eyebrows knitted tightly.

"Oh my goodness, why is the kitchen such a mess? Chloe, don't you usually clean up?"

"It’s a good thing my Ethan has such a sweet temper. Any other man would have lost his mind by now."

She walked to the kitchen door, pointing disapprovingly at the sink full of dirty dishes.

"A man works so hard all day, and he comes home to this? As a woman, you really need to be more clean and organized."

"When I was young, your father-in-law would come home to a spotless house and a hot meal on the table every single night. That is what a real woman does."

Ethan stood right next to her, keeping his head down and saying absolutely nothing.

He didn't explain that he had caused the mess, nor did he stop his mother from criticizing me.

This was his favorite tactic. Whenever there was a conflict, he would call in reinforcements and hide behind them as the victim.

He never had to face the consequences himself. He just had to stand back and let his mother fight his battles.

I didn't lose my temper. In fact, I smiled.

I walked over to the couch, sat down, and took a sip of cold water from the table.

"You're absolutely right, Helen. Your son works so hard. He worked so hard to ruin the entire kitchen, and then worked even harder to call you to come to his rescue."

Helen froze.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means he made this mess. That rotting steak on the counter? He made that too."

I looked directly at Helen. "You raised him for twenty-nine years, and he still can't tell the difference between soy sauce and oil."

"As a mother, you really failed to teach him basic survival skills. But since you're here now, it’s the perfect time for you to clean up after him."