I didn't have time to tend to the bleeding wounds, so I hastily threw on some clothes and followed Jose out.
Phoebe stood leaning against the staircase, frowning and her tone was full of sympathy. "Don't pick things out of the trash can next time. As long as you're good, no one will punish you, Hans."
Before she married me, Phoebe was just a junior employee at the company.
Back then, while she was pursuing me, she learned about my sensitive stomach and spent half a year's salary on a nutrition course. She would show up with fresh Band-Aids on her fingers every day, yet the thoughtful lunch box she delivered to my office never once stopped coming.
Even after we were married, the stomach-soothing lunch boxes continued. No matter how late I worked, there was always a wisp of steam in the kitchen.
"Hans, if you like it, I'll make you a lovingly prepared lunch box for the rest of my life," she said.
The sound of keys jangling snapped me back to the present. Jose stood in the living room, impatience flickering in his eyes. "Hans, it's time to leave."