Chapter 24

So, I rolled up home that night, and I found that Jason was suddenly a chef now.
He used to live off takeout and instant noodles. If he ever had a real meal, it was 'cause his buddies cooked it up.
But tonight? He whipped up sweet and sour fish and pan-fried duck—my absolute faves.
"Uncle, when did you learn to cook?" I asked, totally floored.
"What's so hard about it?" he shot back.
"It's not hard, but you didn't bother for the last 31 years," I pointed out.
"It's not that I couldn't, just never needed to," he shrugged.
"And now you need to?" I teased, grinning.
He looked at me, kinda lost for words. "I guess no."
"Of course you need to," I said, hugging him from behind. "You made my favorite dishes. Were you just waiting for me to come back and eat?"
"Let go," he said, waving a spatula at me. "Who said I cooked for you?"
"No," I clung to his waist. "In my mind, you did."
"If you don't let go, do you believe that I..." he trailed off.
"Will you hit me?" I asked, smirking.
"Let go. Didn't you say you like that brat? Let him cook for you. Who wants to cook for you?" he said, dripping with sarcasm.
Still holding grudges, I see.
"Alright then, I'm out," I said, letting go and heading for the door.
"Come back," he called after me.
I couldn't help but laugh and walked back to help him out.
"Put it there, and don't cut yourself," he said, eyes glued to me.
"Alright, I'll wash the veggies then," I said, putting down the knife.
"Don't wash them, let me do it," he stopped me right away.
"Washing veggies is totally safe, okay?"
"It's not that, but aren't you... feeling unwell?" he hesitated, looking at me.
I was taken aback.
How did he know?
Then it hit me. Ages ago, in the middle of the night, my period came out of nowhere, and I didn't have any sanitary products.
I was so embarrassed but eventually went to him for help.
He rode his motorcycle out, even though all the stores were closed, and got them from his friend's wife.
I never thought he'd remember something so small.
And for so long.
No wonder, every time during those days, he wouldn't let me touch water or wash the car.
"Uncle, do you remember every girl's cycle?" I asked, blushing.
He didn't answer.
He just glanced at me and said, "I'm a man, why should remember that"
"But you... still remember mine?"
"Because that night, you were in so much pain and cried all night. I couldn't sleep because of it," he sighed. "This old house has terrible soundproofing. I could hear you even inside."
"Huh?"
"I wanted to ask you before, you sometimes call my name at night. I thought something was wrong and came to check on you, only to find you sleeping like a baby," he said, staring at me. "Why, are you cursing me out in your dreams?"
"What would I be cursing you for?" My heart was pounding.
"Telling me to get lost," he replied.
My face turned beet red.
He heard that, and he still came out to check on me?
I felt very embarrassed.
"Well, you were pretty intense during that time," I stammered, trying to explain.
"That's just how I talk. Seriously, have I ever hit you? Do you have any conscience?"
"I..." I was at a loss for words, feeling the pressure from him.
My heart was racing, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him anymore.
After dinner, we chilled and watched TV together.
"You should sleep inside tonight," he said, glancing at the sofa in the living room.
"Huh?"
Sleep inside?
What does he mean?
"You're grown up now, it's not cool to sleep in the living room," he explained.
"Then I'll sleep inside, is that cool with you?"
"What are you thinking? I'll crash on the couch. Why, you wanna sleep with me?" he asked, amused.
"No way!" I shot back immediately.
"It's not like you've never slept here before, what are you scared of?" he said, laughing mischievously.
"I don't want to sleep on a bed someone else has slept on," I muttered, feeling a pang of jealousy thinking about his ex-girlfriend.
"Who slept on it? Besides me, no one else has been in that bed."
"You're lying. Didn't your ex-girlfriend come over?" The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, feeling like I was about to explode.
"Who told you that? She never came over. Besides you, no one else has slept on that bed."
"You're lying. Isn't your room so clean because of her?"
He stared at me, clearly frustrated. "I cleaned up for weeks for your return, but every week, I waited in vain. Do you even have a conscience?
"That's true, hanging out with the boys in our class every day, how could you think of coming home?"
I was stunned. "Uncle, were you waiting for me?"
"Of course, why else? Even a dog knows to come back for a visit after a while. Who knew I raised an ungrateful kid like you, who didn't come back home for months," he said, getting a bit angry. He stood up, took off his shirt, and headed for the shower.

I sat there, stunned, watching his back as he walked away.
My dead heart started to waver again, and the embers ignited.
Maybe he does like me a little bit?
But we never spoke of it later.