Chapter 144: Scrambled Eggs
The next morning, Cecilia awoke to find Nathaniel bustling about in their open-concept kitchen. The sight of him cooking scrambled eggs surprised her. He wore a light-colored shirt, grey trousers, and an apron. She'd never seen him cook before, though Stella had mentioned his culinary skills and past meal preparations for her.
Hearing footsteps, Nathaniel looked up. "You're up. Come have some scrambled eggs," he said, placing two plates on the dining table. Unbeknownst to Cecilia, a pan of burnt eggs sat in the sink, and Nathaniel's fingers bore the telltale reddish hue of a burn. Pampered his entire life, he possessed minimal living skills, having learned to make scrambled eggs only recently, via the internet. He examined his hand, a flicker of self-awareness crossing his face. Cooking isn't that hard, after all, he mused. He wasn't sure why he'd felt the urge to cook, perhaps spurred by regret from the previous night's argument.
Reaching the dining room, Cecilia hesitated at the sight of the salmon-studded scrambled eggs, her spoon untouched. Thinking he'd done something wrong, Nathaniel sat, took a bite, and declared the eggs edible, if unremarkable. "If you don't want to eat it, feel free to toss it," he offered, his gaze fixed on her.
Cecilia picked up her spoon, scooped some eggs, and murmured, "This is the first time someone's made scrambled eggs with salmon for me." Nathaniel missed the subtle implication. "Eat as much as you want," he replied.
After a bite, she asked, "We've known each other for seventeen years, haven't we?" Nathaniel, not one for remembering dates, replied, "Yeah. Over a decade."
As she ate, Cecilia muttered, "I'm such an idiot." Nathaniel, straining to hear, asked, "What was that?" "I said it's delicious," she corrected. "You used to always cook fish. This is my first attempt," he said solemnly.
Cecilia finished her plate. "Are you full? If not, I can get you some more," Nathaniel offered, but she didn't respond. He noticed her flushed neck and hands. "What's wrong?" he asked, his gaze sharp.
"I'm allergic to seafood," she whispered, meeting his gaze. Seventeen years of acquaintance, three of marriage, and he'd been unaware.
Alarm bells rang. He scooped her into his arms, rushed her to the car, and sped toward the hospital. "Have you lost your mind? Why didn't you tell me about your allergy?" he demanded. "I've told you before. I guess you forgot," she replied, remembering a past incident during a holiday at the Rainsworth residence. She’d explicitly mentioned her allergy, and he'd assured her, "I've taken note of this. I'll never forget." Yet, he only recalled her preparing seafood dishes for him.
Cecilia seemed to read his thoughts. "I used to cook fish for you often, not because I liked it, but because you did," she explained.
The drive to the hospital felt interminable. Finally, Nathaniel said, "You didn't have to do all that."
Cecilia realized the weight of her past actions, contained in those simple words: "You didn't have to." How stupid could I have been? she thought. "I know now. It won't happen again," she vowed, resolving to cease her kindness towards those who didn't reciprocate.