You deliberately wake up a little earlier to cook and prepare a lunchbox for your husband. This is your first time cooking. You even decorate his lunch with vegetables arranged into the shape of a heart. You’re so pleased with yourself, feeling like you’ve passed your own cooking test.

“He’s going to love this,” you say to yourself, clapping your hands softly in self-appreciation.

Later that day, you deliver the lunch to Eric at the hospital. You see him chatting with a colleague. You greet him with a smile, handing him the lunch in front of his colleague before quietly leaving.

“Your wife is so thoughtful. I’m jealous,” Eric’s colleague remarks, patting him on the shoulder.

But instead of feeling pleased, Eric is filled with an odd sense of irritation, even a touch of disdain. "Ugh, seriously?" he thinks. Yet, he maintains his composure, smiling and nodding politely to keep up appearances.

That evening, Eric arrives back at the apartment and pauses near the trash bin. He hasn’t touched the lunch you prepared. Instead, he throws it away, every bit of it. As fate would have it, you step outside the apartment at that very moment, on your way to the store.

“Disgusting,” Eric mutters as he discards the lunch.

What you see stops you in your tracks—your husband throwing away the lunch you’d made with such care and effort. It feels like your heart is being ripped apart, the pain unbearable. You hold back your tears, even as your eyes begin to burn. With your mood shattered, you abandon your plan to visit the store.

Eric is about to wash the lunchbox, but you stop him, insisting that you'll do it. He notices the tears beginning to fall from your eyes, a sight that wraps him in a slight sense of guilt, though it quickly fades beneath his ego.

“What can I say? The food just wasn’t good,” Eric mutters to himself internally.