He seemed surprised, to see me kneading dough with the same hands I used to play the piano and paint and to see the once proud and bright Ms. Ridley would willingly endure such a hard life now.
It also seemed like a test, to see if I would cling to him like before and to see if I would cry and beg him to come home.
However, faced with the man's intense gaze, I remained silent.
After a while, he spoke again, his voice tinged with doubt and resentment,
"I've seen Sienna's video."
"What happened back then ... I'm sorry."
"If you want to come back ...."
"No need." I interrupted, then continued to knead the dough without even lifting my head. "I am living well now."
Dwayne, who was not getting a definitive answer, was growing anxious. He unconsciously raised his voice, "What about Noah?"
"You're going to let my son live this kind of miserable life with you?!"
My hands, which were kneading the dough, paused for a moment.
I lowered my head and spoke calmly, "Noah died."
He frowned and continued. "Where are your parents? Don't they care about you?"
I threw the dough aside and looked up at him, replying, "My parents have also died."
"I'm not selling the hamburger today. You can leave."