Just like in my previous life, my son ordered a bowl of handmade noodles. But the portion was so tiny that even a child couldn’t get full from it.
Under Chloe Miller’s deliberate guidance, my son stepped forward to ask for a refill of noodles.
“Rachel, he’s grown up now. Let him ask on his own—it’s a good exercise for him,” Chloe said.
I sneered inwardly but kept my expression calm.
Glancing at the little girl slurping soup beside us, I spoke evenly:
“Emily, your bowl is empty too. Why don’t you go ask for more noodles, just like your brother?”
As soon as I said that, Emily Miller jumped up with her bowl.
Ever since she was young, Chloe had instilled in her that whatever my son had, she must also have.
Emily ran off carrying two bowls, leaving Chloe wide-eyed in panic, unable to stop her in time.
Watching Chloe’s flustered expression only confirmed the suspicion gnawing at me.
The bitterness in my chest deepened—my husband and my best friend had betrayed me together.
I drew in a sharp breath, forcing myself to stay calm.
The next second, the rough, irritable voice of the shop owner shattered the quiet inside the noodle shop.