The old man sipped his coffee leisurely, seeming more content than someone running a tarot reading stall. Maeve found this curious and glanced over several times.

Noticing her interest, and having nothing better to do, the old man waved her over. "Hey there, young lady. Want to draw some tarot cards? I can read your career, love life—whatever you need. If it's not accurate, it's free!"

Maeve hesitated, then walked over and sat down. "Sir, how does this work?"

"Just draw a few cards."

She drew some cards, and the old man studied them thoughtfully. He frowned. "This is the most complicated reading I've seen in a while. You have a younger brother, right? Your parents don't pay much attention to you. Financially, things are tricky—you're losing money, mostly to help your family?"

Maeve's heart skipped a beat. How could he be so spot-on? she thought.

The old man continued. "On the bright side, your career prospects look good. If you put in the effort, you're promising. But as for your love life…"

His serious expression made Maeve nervous. "What's wrong with my love life?"

"It's going to be a bumpy road."

Maeve bit her lip. "Bumpy" is an understatement, she thought. How could he be this accurate?

"Don't feel discouraged, young lady," the old man added. "Even if your love life is rough, there's a way to turn things around."

"What's the solution?" Maeve asked.

"Find a man whose love life is even worse than yours. Fight fire with fire."

Maeve was speechless. "Fight fire with fire? That doesn't sound reliable at all," she thought.

Just as she started doubting him, the old man peered closer at her cards and gasped. "Oh, you're already married? And your husband happens to be just the type I was talking about!" Maeve's eyes widened in admiration. "You can even tell that? That's amazing!"

The old man grinned smugly. "Of course! Back in the day, my tarot readings were unbeatable. Everyone said I was always on point. Then why are you running a stall here?"

The old man was caught off guard. He couldn't tell her he was loitering to catch a glimpse of his future granddaughter-in-law, so he'd cleverly set up a tarot stall instead. Unexpectedly, he hadn't found her yet, but a steady stream of customers kept coming by.

Maeve didn't press further. She stood up. "Your readings must be expensive, right? How much do I owe you?" The accuracy made her willing to pay more.

The old man—Gilbert—was about to name a small amount when his stomach growled loudly. His face flushed red. "I've been busy all day and haven't had time to eat. An old man's got to eat—I'm not made of iron…"

Maeve blinked. She hadn't even said anything yet. After a moment, she offered, "Would you like to come over for a simple meal at my place? I'll still pay for the reading, and consider it a thank-you for helping clear my mind." She'd been feeling lost about her engagement, but felt much more at ease after his reading. Besides, something about him reminded her of her late grandparents.

Gilbert noticed her groceries and, though tempted, tried to be polite. "Oh, I couldn't impose."

"It's really no trouble. I always cook too much for myself, so if you could help me finish it, I'd appreciate it."

Gilbert immediately stood up, handing his coffee cup to his assistant. "Well then, I'll shamelessly accept your invitation."

"But sir, what about me!" his assistant protested.

"Go find yourself something to eat and pick me up later."

The assistant was left speechless. Poor me—I've just been ditched, he thought.

Listening to their exchange, Maeve felt warmth in her heart. She knew having a young man accompany her home would be awkward, but with just the old man, it felt safe and considerate.

Once inside her apartment, Maeve offered him slippers. "Here, you can wear these. Make yourself comfortable while I prep the ingredients."

"Alright, no need to worry about me," Gilbert said with a smile.

This was the first time he'd been invited to someone's home for a meal like this, and it felt far more relaxing than any formal gathering. He wandered into the living room, drawn to the lush greenery on the balcony. He saw neatly arranged plants filled with vibrant vegetables. His eyes lit up. "Young lady, I didn't know you were into gardening."

From the kitchen, Maeve replied shyly, "It's just a casual hobby. I'm only growing common vegetables. If you'd like, pick some, and I'll cook them up for you."

"Really?" Gilbert rubbed his hands together.

"Of course."

He zeroed in on the lettuce. As he picked the leaves, he reminisced, "My wife used to love gardening too—flowers, vegetables… everything. But she didn't have much of a green thumb; everything she planted died. After she passed, she left me some seeds, but I couldn't grow them either. I just kept them as a reminder of her."

"You and your wife must've been really close," Maeve said softly. It was easy to tell how much he cherished her. It was the kind of love that made people envious.

Before long, Maeve brought out the last dish. Gilbert took a few bites and was pleasantly surprised by the simple home-cooked meal. "You've really got some skills, young lady," he said, giving her a thumbs-up.

Maeve blushed. "I'm glad you like it."

As Gilbert ate, he felt a mix of emotions. He'd been hoping to taste his future granddaughter-in-law's cooking, but was enjoying this instead. Who am I kidding? he thought. If my granddaughter-in-law's cooking were even half as good as this, I'd be content. And if she were as kind and sincere as Maeve, I'd be over the moon. Even then, that stubborn grandson of mine would probably be too indifferent to care, he muttered.

"What was that?" Maeve asked.

"Oh, nothing. This soup is delicious," Gilbert quickly covered. Maeve smiled.

Then, there was a faint sound of footsteps. A familiar voice called, "Maeve, could you grab me a towel?"

Byron, Gilbert thought, surprised by the sudden change in his expression. Maeve got up and fetched a towel. She found Byron at the entrance, his suit damp from the rain. He handed her a drink. "Didn't you bring an umbrella?" she asked.

"No." Byron was drying his hair when he heard sounds from inside. His eyes narrowed. "Do you have a guest?"

Maeve quickly explained about the tarot reading. "Go change your clothes and come eat. I made a lot of food."

Instead of going to change, Byron walked straight toward the dining area. He'd assumed it was a scammer, but what he didn't expect was to see Gilbert himself sitting at the table.