Reality is indeed different from fiction. Regardless of the female lead, the male lead, or the side characters, their fate lies in the author’s hands.

“I’m not gabbing with you any longer. Get the takeout for me when it arrives. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

Amelia plopped down on Tiffany’s one and only bed and dozed off in a matter of seconds.

Sometime later, Amelia was woken up by the fragrant smell of food. She walked out of the bedroom groggily, just in time to see Tiffany setting the dining table.

“Tiff, you cooked? Didn’t I say to order takeout?” Amelia asked, perplexed.

“Well, you’re jilted. I figured I better comfort you with home-cooked food instead.” Tiffany smiled.

time you’re not lazing around like a couch potato

come eat. Keep yapping on

it? But hold up—are they actually edible?” Having thrown out her last

but her lips curved into a smile

put it, should her writing career not take off, she could seriously consider being a chef instead. Based on the magic she’d worked in the kitchen that

had what you made, Tiff. I didn’t expect your food to still taste like heaven,”

compared to you who could set fire

do you think I could win Oscar Clinton’s heart if I

with a net worth in the billions. What food do you suppose he’s never had before? Even if he wanted home-cooked food, he has plenty of servants to do the work. When would he need your contribution? If I must say, you should divorce him as soon as possible and earn a comfortable sum of alimony. You’ve been married for four years. Don’t wait

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