My Goodness Isn’t For Them, It’s For M

Chapter 4

After filming wrapped, Jacob came back to the house. Betty was with him.

She spoke timidly, "Ms. Wilson, Mr. West was hoping to make a family recipe booklet as the wedding favor. We'd like to borrow your grandmother's handwritten cookbook so we can scan it..."

I answered calmly, "It's not leaving this house."

Jacob frowned, irritation creeping into his voice. "Cheryl, the favors are for our wedding. That cookbook will show my family what an amazing wife you are. It's also perfect marketing for your brand. Haven't you always wanted this kind of exposure?"

I looked at him coldly. "My grandmother left that to me. I'm never handing it over."

After Grandma passed away, I'd moved three different times.

I'd lost clothes. I'd lost trophies. But that cookbook had never left my side.

It wasn't just a recipe book. It was the last piece of her I had left.

Jacob's face darkened. "Cheryl, you're becoming impossible. Your injury has already delayed the project, and now you won't even cooperate with something this simple?"

Ignoring me completely, he brushed past and walked straight into the living room. His eyes landed immediately on the second shelf of the bookcase.

The blue cloth-bound cookbook sat exactly where I'd always kept it.

"Jacob, what are you doing?!" I rushed toward him. The sudden movement yanked at my wound, and sharp pain shot through my hand.

He grabbed my wrist. With his free hand, he pulled the cookbook from the shelf and handed it to Betty.

"Take it. Get it scanned and laid out today."

Betty accepted it with both hands. "Don't worry, Ms. Wilson. I'll be very careful."

My eyes burned. I struggled desperately. "Jacob... give it back!"

"You'll get it back after it's scanned." He gripped my shoulder harder, his voice turning icy. "Don't make me fight with you this close to the wedding."

The front door closed. My right hand trembled uncontrollably. Fresh blood slowly soaked through the bandage.

That evening, someone from the studio dropped off a paper bag.

The moment I opened it, the sharp smell of red wine hit me.

The blue cloth cover was completely soaked. Its corners had swollen from the liquid. Inside, an old photograph of my grandmother when she was young had bled into a blurry mess beneath the wine stains.

Several pages containing her notes about cooking temperatures were gone. All that remained was a soggy pile of paper with the ink completely washed away.

Even the sentence she'd written for me...

"The hands that cook must stay steady. So must the heart."

Had been torn cleanly in half.

My phone buzzed. A message from Betty.

Betty: I'm so sorry, Ms. Wilson. During the livestream rehearsal, I accidentally knocked over the wine tower. Mr. Jacob already scolded me. Please don't be angry.

Jacob arrived soon after.

He found me crouching on the floor, carefully spreading out each ruined page one by one.

"Cheryl."

I didn't look up. I tucked Grandma's damaged photo into a tissue. The tissue quickly turned dark red from the wine.

He stepped closer and sighed. "Betty didn't do it on purpose. I'll hire the best restoration expert money can buy. Stop looking like this. She cried so hard in the dressing room that she was shaking. The entire livestream team is waiting for her. This is affecting everyone."

Just a few sheets of paper.

I stared at the indifference on his face.

Then I remembered, eight years ago, the night my grandmother died. He'd run through a pouring rain just to hold me tightly in his arms.

He'd whispered, "From now on, I'm your family."

Now the person who'd once promised to be my family had destroyed the very last piece of it with his own hands.

The stew had long since boiled dry. So had our love.

Betty stood behind Jacob, her eyes red with tears.

"Ms. Wilson... I'm so sorry. Why don't you host tonight's livestream instead? I don't even have the courage to face you."

Jacob turned toward her. "Don't blame yourself over something so small."

He picked up an apron and handed it to her. It had been custom-made for Grandma's Kitchen.

"Go ahead with tonight's livestream as planned." Then he looked back at me. "I'll come home tonight and change your bandage. We'll talk then."

I never looked at him. I simply placed the ruined cookbook back into the paper bag.

After dark, a notification popped onto my phone. The livestream had begun.

On the screen, Jacob stood behind Betty. He gently tied my apron around her waist.

I left the wedding group chat and canceled the wedding dress order.

The engagement ring still rested on top of his sticky note. I wrote only one sentence:

Jacob, I don't want this wedding anymore.

The station gate flashed green. At that exact moment, another text from Jacob appeared.

Jacob: I feel like having your soup tonight. Be good. Wait for me.

I looked at the screen and let out a cold laugh.

The high-speed train bound for South City roared into the station. I never looked back.

Pulling my suitcase behind me, I walked toward a tomorrow.

One without Jacob.