I didn't wait for Will to ask twice, I found myself in the kitchen arranging some spaghetti and fried chicken. As I served the meal, I kept tearing up, and I didn't know why!
“Stupid tears!” I murmured as I wiped my tears. I didn't want my tears to drop in the food, didn't want it getting salty or, for any reason, Will doesn't enjoy it anymore.
I kept wiping my tears away until I was done in the kitchen. I wanted to be the one to serve him, so when the cooks asked to help me take the food to the dining room, I refused.
I wanted to serve my son, who wanted to eat my food. I had to walk back and forth, but I didn't care. Will was already seated on the dining chair, along with Grandfather.
Although Will didn't say a word, I could tell that he was anticipating the meal, just with the g
