Despite the wet fantasies I could concoct about myself in my own building after having made a handsome fortune, the harsh reality was that at the moment, I was just a kid with nothing extraordinary to offer.
Before I died, I was like that too, wasn't I?
My thoughts plunged into a whirlpool as she walked away having said something about cooking.
Actually, in my previous life, things were going very well for me. In elementary and high school, I was always at the top of my class and was in the top ten of my generation.
I competed against nobles and other kids from rich parents like me, and many of them I left behind.
I was talented in music, horsemanship, calligraphy, etiquette, dancing, sports and much more. Yes, I was, because I craved his approval.
But sports, specifically swimming, I was passionate about above all else and the best part was that no one could match me.
Thanks to that, I had won medals, trophies and even my father's first "You've been doing well".
However, something went wrong...
Like everyone else, there were things I simply couldn't remember, but from the age of sixteen onwards, everything became a complete enigma that I didn't feel able to solve.
"Nate, dinner's ready!"
My mother's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and at the same time, an unpleasant stench made me wrinkle my nose.
It was a strong smell that reminded me of the stench my running shoes expelled after a few hours of training.
I turned my head in disgust toward the source of the stench. It was coming from the "kitchen," if you could call it that, a small rectangle that could barely fit one person.
There she was, the green-eyed blonde holding a pot ajar in her hands, carrying it toward the table that stood between the kitchen and the TV area, all in the same room.
How degrading...
"Sit down, Naty, I prepared your favorite dish!"
I swallowed my complaints and walked over to the wooden table where she had placed the pot.
As I sat down with my nose still wrinkled, she had already started serving whatever was inside the pot.
It was demeaning to have to sit in a high chair made especially for children; not only was it uncomfortable, but it looked like with a sudden movement it could come completely apart.
My God.
"Hospital food is so boring and tasteless, isn't it? So I made you mac and cheese!"
With palpable excitement in his voice, he completely uncovered the pot.
"Ugh...," I muttered under my breath.
The stench intensified and my eyes met a noodles coated with some sort of goo.
"Just the way you like it, Nate, with lots of cheese!"
No, I hated cheese. Yes, I hated it and I hated spicy. You couldn't serve me a dish with those ingredients without making me want to vomit.
My chefs knew that all too well, even when I was kicked out of the London house and living on my "secretary" salary. I always avoided consuming such things.
Despite everything, and contrary to my true thoughts, my mouth filled with saliva as if I were a dog in front of a cutlet.
She noticed how I licked my lips and smiled showing her white teeth.
No, I hated this. Don't smile...
"I'm so glad," she said.
Tiny tears formed in her eyes as her cheeks took on a reddish hue.
What was wrong with this woman, why was she crying?
"Ah, sorry, Nate. You can start eating hehe."
I hadn't realized but now a plate with the strange substance and a lone spoon was what I had in front of me.
My body moved on its own again and as I tried to refuse, I trembled as I reached out to grab the spoon.
It was useless; the childish will of the previous child who wanted to eat his favorite food dominated.
Worst of all, when I took a bite... I liked it. My taste buds enjoyed it regardless.
I ate with my eyes closed, feeling dizzy and about to lose the battle.
"There's still more, so you can eat all you want, Naty!"
I felt like I was going to start crying too.
if you see a spelling mistake, let me know!