Looking at the sentence, she texted back: "By mistake."

"Don't dress like that again. You hear me?" Oscar warned.

Hannah remained silent.

Oscar texted again: "You can only dress like that in front of me."

Hannah frowned. The food delivery driver arrived.

"The food's here. I'm going to eat."

"Are you dressed properly?"

"Yes."

How bossy could he be!

Hannah put down her phone and went to the door. She accepted the food and then asked, "Excuse me, do you know where I can find a supermarket nearby? Somewhere I can grocery shop?"

"Yes. There's one about a twenty-minute ride from here. If that's too much trouble, there's a grocery market right behind the apartment complex. Go out the back door and turn right; you'll see it."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," Hannah said gratefully.

"My pleasure. Please leave a positive review."

"Sure."

The delivery driver left, and Hannah closed the door.

She ate her late lunch, wondering if she should cook dinner for Oscar. This place wasn't as luxurious as the big cities, but it offered a warm, homely feeling. She finished quickly, changed, and went out.

She'd cook whatever came to mind. She wanted no regrets.

She went to the grocery market the driver had mentioned. Honestly, she'd only seen such a place on TV. It was noisy and uncomfortable, but she wanted to adapt.

"Excuse me, is this the same vegetable as in the photo?" Hannah asked, showing it to the shop owner.

The shop owner glanced at it dismissively. "No. But this one is." He pointed to some onions.

Hannah, slightly awkward, said, "Okay. I'll take one."

"One dollar," the shop owner said.

Hannah paid. She finally had all the ingredients, using the photo to help her. It was already 5 p.m. when she returned to the apartment.

Time was ticking. Oscar would be home soon. She had to finish cooking before he arrived. She imagined his happiness at seeing the meal she prepared.

Following a blog, she rinsed the meat and vegetables, then chopped them according to the instructions.

Chopping vegetables wasn't a problem, but the beef proved too tough. She tried, but couldn't slice it properly. Still, she figured it would be edible.

Finally, everything was ready. Now to cook.

The first problem arose—she didn't know how to use the gas stove. She studied it for a while but couldn't figure it out. She decided to call Max.

Max was startled when she said she was cooking. He tried to stop her, saying it was dangerous, but gave in to her persistence. He reluctantly taught her how to use the stove, repeatedly emphasizing she should leave the kitchen immediately and call 911 if there was a fire.

Hannah was speechless, wondering how much Max underestimated her. She managed to light the stove and hung up.

Following the blog, she added oil, then condiments, and finally the beef.

But as soon as the beef hit the pan, she screamed. The loud noise and boiling oil splattering onto her hand terrified her. The pain was intense; she threw down the spoon.

Oscar finished work on time and arrived early. He carried flowers in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. As he opened the door, he saw something fly at him. He dropped the bag and caught the spoon. Then he saw Hannah cowering, terrified.

Oscar realized she'd been trying to cook for him. He was flattered. He quickly put down the flowers, rushed over, and turned off the stove, finding the contents of the pan completely burnt. He turned to Hannah.

He saw her scared face and laughed. "Were you trying to make dinner for me?"

Hannah, a little upset, said, "But I couldn't do it!"

"You bought these?" Oscar asked, seeing the ingredients.

Hannah nodded.

"Where did you get them?" Oscar asked, starting to clean the blackened pan.

"A grocery market nearby."

"You did great," Oscar said, carefully washing the pan. He chatted with Hannah, trying to ease her embarrassment.

"I thought cooking would be easy," Hannah said, still upset. She believed she could excel at anything with enough effort.

"Well, it is," Oscar echoed.

"So, you think I'm stupid?"

Oscar smiled gently. "I mean, you're my princess. How could I let you cook for me? Let me do the honors, my princess."

Hannah blushed, admitting Oscar was quick-witted and good at charming girls. She was touched by "my princess," feeling deeply loved and cared for.

Hannah watched Oscar clean the kitchen, skillfully chopping vegetables and beef.

She was ashamed at the contrast between her struggles and his ease. Slicing the beef had been so difficult for her, but for Oscar it was effortless.

Hannah became lost in thought, wondering how Oscar had mastered so many skills. To outsiders he was a playboy, wild and playful, but he constantly surprised her.

She realized she loved him more with each passing day, and she knew she would love him deeply, completely, for her whole life.

"Done," Oscar announced, the meat and vegetables prepared. He turned to Hannah. "Mrs. Wells, come here please."

"No," Hannah refused, still afraid of the oil burn.

"Come on, baby girl," Oscar said softly.

"The boiling oil scared me," Hannah explained, refusing to approach.

Oscar sighed, put down the spoon, and went to her, taking her hand. Although hesitant, Hannah went to the kitchen with him. Then she heard Oscar's magnetic voice, "Hold me from behind."