Arthur Bennett explained to Elaine Miller that his sister had just gone through a messy divorce and, in a whirlwind of emotional turmoil, had unceremoniously dumped her child on him.

The kid was high-maintenance and spoiled, with a palate that refused anything less than perfection. To make matters worse, the nanny was on leave, and Arthur was drowning in a sea of grocery bags and failed recipes.

Elaine caught the drift. "You want me to handle the cooking for her?"

Arthur nodded, his expression earnest. "I can pay you for your time."

Elaine hesitated. She hadn't brought much with her when she fled the Spencer Estate. Greta Spencer had slipped her a credit card, but she wasn't the type to burn through savings while sitting idle. Diversifying her income stream was a sensible move, yet—

As Elaine pondered, a sudden weight pressed against her waist. She looked down to see Charleigh Flores clinging to her, wide eyes shimmering with dramatic desperation.

"Auntie, please!" Charleigh wailed. "If I have to eat another meal cooked by Uncle, I’m going to end up in the ER with food poisoning, I swear!"

"Charleigh Flores! One more word and I’m shipping you back to your father!" Arthur snapped. He turned back to Elaine, his face softening into a look of sheer defeat. "I apologize. I can’t seem to keep her in check."

Elaine’s heart melted. She had always loved children, and she found herself aching for the day she could finally welcome her own. But until then...

Elaine shook her head, scattering the dark thoughts like mist in the morning sun. She scooped Charleigh into her arms. "Alright, I accept. But keep the money. We can call it a fair trade for the rent."

"Yes!" Charleigh cheered, her eyes lighting up as she pumped her small fists into the air.

Arthur’s shoulders dropped, the tension finally leaving his frame.

***

The days that followed were blissfully quiet.

Elaine had leased a quaint flower shop, stepping into the life she had once only dared to dream of while trapped behind the iron gates of the estate. She spent her mornings arranging bouquets and her evenings heading back to the apartment to whip up something decent for herself and Charleigh.

It quickly became clear that Arthur was hopeless in the kitchen. The meals he churned out were devoid of color, aroma, and any semblance of taste. He didn't seem to care, though; he would just sit at the table with a blank expression, stoically shoving the tasteless mush down as if it were a chore.

Watching him day after day, a flicker of pity stirred in Elaine’s chest. One evening, she prepared an extra portion and invited him to join them.

Arthur murmured a polite thank you, took a single bite, and froze.

The calm, handsome mask he usually wore slipped, replaced by several seconds of utter bewilderment. Then, a look of unadulterated awe settled over his features.

The silent message was clear: *I didn't know humans were capable of creating something this good. What on earth have I been eating for the last thirty years?*

Elaine chuckled. "So, your taste buds actually work after all."