Italic = inner thoughts.

 

***

 

Around 5 PM, Wendy returned to Irene's house with Lily holding a cup of ice cream in her small hands. Irene was already waiting for them in the living room as soon as she stepped in.

 

"Mommy, ice cream!" Lily ran and snuggled into her mother's arms.

 

Irene smiled and rubbed Lily's chubby cheeks. "Does Lily want to eat ice cream now?"

 

"Uhm!"

 

"Can you change your uniform first before eating it? You don't want to make a mess."

 

"Okay, Mommy!"

 

After seeing Lily skip happily to her room, Irene turned to Wendy, who placed a paper bag on the table. She had a clue what was inside, but she kept her lips sealed. Waiting for the young novelist to talk first.

 

Noticing Irene's intense stare, Wendy scratched her cheek and said, "So, I bought everything needed to make the pancakes. Shall I make them now?"

 

"Sure."

 

…

…

 

Standing behind the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, Irene's eyes never left Wendy.

 

"Are you going to watch me make pancakes?" Wendy asked while holding a bag of flour.

 

"I need to make sure you won't cheat."

 

"I'm not gonna cheat."

 

Irene pursed her lips. "Who knows."

 

"Okay, watch me closely then. If you blink, you lose." Wendy raised her brows while throwing a winning grin at the other woman. Meanwhile, Irene was dumbfounded by her sheer confidence.

 

The young manager scowled. "Aren't you too smug? You haven't even started. If I catch you putting something weird, you'll see."

 

"Wow. You're really recovered from sickness!" Wendy exclaimed. The lioness is back!

 

"What's the connection between this and my sickness?"

 

"Nothing."

 

Wendy cowered a little after seeing Irene's intensified glare and decided to just start making pancakes instead of having a banter with the latter.

 

…

…

 

Weirdly, having Irene standing beside her didn't make her as nervous as she thought it would be. It even encouraged her more to prove herself. She pulled out the remaining ingredients: an egg, butter, baking powder, milk, vanilla extract, and sugar before rolling up her sleeves. Getting ready to make the batter.

 

"Can I borrow your bowl and whisk?"

 

Wordlessly, Irene opened a cabinet above her head and pulled what Wendy needed.

 

"Thank you."

 

Wendy smiled before focusing back on scooping the flour into the bowl. Then she added a spoonful of sugar, ¼ spoonful of salt, and a drop of vanilla extract in it.

 

"Don't you need to weigh the flour?"

 

"No. I can do it by heart."

 

Irene nodded hesitantly. She remembered when Wendy made the pancakes last time, she weighed everything. Yet, still failed to deliver the taste.

 

After melting the butter and warming the milk, Wendy poured them into the bowl. Again, without weighing them first. Cracking an egg with one hand, she looked like someone who often cooks at home, which was shocking. Then she started whisking the ingredients well under Irene's watchful eyes.

 

When the batter was ready, Wendy heated the frying pan and spread a bit of butter on it. With a ladle, she poured a good amount of batter into the pan and waited until it cooked well.

 

Each step was recorded in Irene's mind. Seeing how confident Wendy was and how precise her steps were, she knew the pancakes would turn out well. When Wendy flipped over the first pancake, she could see that it was well cooked.

 

Irene sighed inwardly because she had already got her first answer. The younger woman didn't lie to her. She really made the pancakes by herself. All that was left was just the taste. Whether it would taste the same or not.

 

Shifting her eyes from Wendy's busy hands to her side profile, Irene could see how relaxed the latter was while cooking. Unconsciously, her eyes wandered around and stopped at Wendy's face. She was confused because she didn't feel as disgusted as before whenever she saw her or when they were standing in close proximity like now. Instead, she felt a melancholy feeling. A sense of longing.

 

As the sweet vanilla smell engulfed the small kitchen, that certain feeling intensified inside her heart. Irene furrowed her brows and felt her eyes getting blurry. She blinked a few times, trying to control her feelings. Why do I want to cry?

 

On the other hand, the young novelist was aware that Irene had been looking at her face intently, but she didn't dare ask why. She felt the side of her face burning with such an intense stare until she felt something cool rubbing her left cheek.

 

"You got something on your cheek."

 

Irene's voice sounded mellow for some reason, and it urged Wendy to turn her head. Because the older woman’s thumb was still rubbing her cheek, it grazed over her lower lips the moment she turned her head.

 

Both of them froze, staring closely at each other with Irene's thumb still on Wendy's lips until they smelled something burning in the air.

 

"Oh my God!" Wendy exclaimed and quickly turned off the stove. "My first pancake is burnt!"

 

As the younger girl panicked, Irene clenched her fist. She was aware that she just did something out of her control. To calm herself, she stepped back and said, "I won't count the burnt one. I-I'll be waiting on the table."

 

Looking at Irene's back, Wendy sensed something was unusual with the woman, but she got a pancake to make, so she didn't think much about it.

 

**

 

A plate of pancakes was served in front of the young manager. They looked exactly like the pancakes from this morning and would probably taste the same. But Irene felt hesitant to touch it. Not because she was afraid to taste them but because she was scared of what it would make her think of Wendy.

 

What would she do if it tasted exactly like the pancakes she loved? Her thought was filled with so many possibilities. She stared at the pancakes for a while until Wendy asked her what was wrong.

 

"Are you okay? You've been staring at your plate for a while."

 

"No. I was just thinking."

 

Lifting her fork with mixed feelings, she finally took a bite. As she chewed slowly, the familiar taste burst inside . The fluffy texture, sweet but not overly sweet batter, and the faint aroma of vanilla made her feel all nostalgic. She swallowed and felt herself on the verge of breaking down. Her body shook a little.

 

"Irene, are you sure you're okay?"

 

"I'm sorry. I-I need to go to the bathroom." The young manager abruptly stood up and scurried away.

 

" …. Does my pancake taste that bad?"

 

Dumbfounded. Wendy took a bite and found nothing wrong. It tastes just the same as this morning, even better.

 

…

…

 

Bathroom.

 

Irene covered her lips as she felt tears b down her cheeks. She was the one who asked Wendy to make the pancakes, yet she was also the one who ran away when faced with the truth.

 

The pancakes are supposed to taste bad! What … What should I do now? Why did it affect me more than I thought?

 

Irene slumped down on the bathroom floor while hugging herself. She was torn between her mind and her heart for the first time.

 

…

…

 

Knock! Knock!

 

"Irene? Are you okay? You've been there for 15 minutes."

 

A sound of flush was heard before the door opened from inside.

 

"What happened …"

 

"Please don't ask."

 

Irene knew that Wendy noticed how red the rim of her eyes was and how puffy they were. It was pretty obvious that she cried inside.

 

"I won't. But did you feel better now?"

 

Wendy thought Irene's headache had returned, so she was worried when the latter took a long time in the bathroom. As she saw how vulnerable Irene looked, she couldn't help but worry. What troubled the woman until she cried in the bathroom? But Irene didn't let her ask, so all she could do was ensure the latter was feeling better.

 

"Irene?"

 

Instead of answering her question, the woman asked, "Do you really think you’re suffering from memory loss?"

 

"Huh?" Wendy was stunned by her question for a moment. “Yes, I do. Why did you ask me this question again?”

 

"You … Have you ever checked yourself to a psychiatrist?"

 

What? Does she think I'm crazy?

 

"Irene, why do you think I have to check myself into a psychiatrist?" Wendy put her hands on Irene's shoulder out of worry. The woman cried in the bathroom and suddenly asked this question. Something must’ve happened.

 

"Because I think you have a spli ..."

 

"AHEM!"

 

Surprised, Wendy and Irene turned to their left, only to see a flabbergasted Joy holding a suitcase.

 

"Did my eyes play tricks on me, or are you actually holding my sister?"

 

Irene was suddenly aware that Wendy's hands were on her shoulder, so she instinctively stepped back. "It's not like what you're thinking, Joy."

 

"No. I'm not asking you, Unnie. I'm asking her!"

 

"I felt dizzy, and Wendy helped me." Irene pretended to touch her head. Meanwhile, the young novelist was surprised to find Irene siding with her this time.

 

"Are you okay, Unnie? Do you want to rest on your bed??" Joy immediately came closer and held her sister by her arm.

 

"No. I just need to sit for a while," Irene mumbled.

 

"Okay, I'll help you. Hold on to me." Then Joy turned her sight to Wendy and said coldly, "You can go. I'm here to take care of my sister and Lily."

 

Sniff. Sniff. "Did you make pancakes, Unnie? Give me some. I'm hungry," Joy muttered as she supported her sister to walk.

 

"Wendy made it," Irene replied while looking a bit distracted.

 

"Then I don't want any, hmph!"

 

Wendy had expected Joy's response, so she said, "Your sister only ate a little. It will be a waste to throw the rest away."

 

"Fine. You forced me."

 

"..."

 

When did I force her??

 

…

…

 

"So you asked her to make pancakes in front of you?"

 

Irene nodded as she hugged her banana pillow. She was forced to stay on the couch while being interrogated by Joy. Her younger sister was suspicious about why Wendy made pancakes for her sister.

 

"And she proved that she made them herself. The same pancakes you received from her years ago." Joy squinted her eyes. "While I admit the pancakes were delicious, and it stunned me that she can cook that well, are you sure it's the same pancake? The one that convinced you to marry her?"

 

"I married her not because she's good at making pancakes!"

 

Joy scoffed and crossed her arms in annoyance. "Right, not the pancake but the coke proposal! You're so easy to please, Unnie! Others would want a grande romantic proposal, but you just … just, uh, I refuse to say it!"

 

"You were not there, Joy. You didn't know what I felt at that time," Irene countered back. For her, the coke proposal was romantic and perfect. She didn't like a grand proposal anyway.

 

"Now I can tell that you're starting to trust her again by just a pancake! Do you want to get back with her, Unnie?!" Joy's tone raised, but she was immediately shushed by her sister because Lily was sleeping in her room.

 

"It's not that I want to get back with her or anything. But she's still Lily's only blood-related family. I tolerate her because of my daughter."

 

Her sister wasn't convinced and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, using your daughter to cover your true intention. Very good, Unnie. You learned from the best."

 

"I don't have feelings for her anymore!"

 

In this situation, she couldn't tell Joy that she had just experienced a breakdown in the bathroom a while ago. She wasn't even sure of herself, of what she wanted. Telling Joy would only bring disaster. Especially when the latter was so worked up over Wendy. She should figure it out by herself.

 

"Did I hear a tremble in your voice?" Joy was still not done interrogating her sister. "This version of Wendy is the one you liked and fell for. Are you sure you won't fall for her trick again this time?"

 

"I'm sure."

 

"Then you still go on with the divorce plan, right?"

 

"Of course. I'll submit the paper to the court by the end of next month."

 

Joy stared at her sister and sighed inwardly. Her sister was so easy to read. If Wendy kept charming her sister, the divorce paper would undoubtedly be forgotten sooner or later.

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