The Flavor of Her.
As they pulled up to the gated entrance of Damien's villa nestled in a wealthy district, Eva frowned.
"This isn't the company," she said slowly.
Eric parked and turned to her with quiet honesty.
"Actually Miss Eva, I lied to you about the company needing your help" Eric said calmly. "Oh!" Eva blinked calmly
"Yeah. And I am really sorry about that. Actually, my boss is not feeling too well"
And Eva's chest tightened. "What happened to him? I clearly saw him yesterday" Eva said worriedly
"The truth is, my Boss thinks you look like his ex"
And in that moment, something flickered in Eva's mind, like a light bulb switching on in a dark, forgotten room, and it made her whole body shook nervously within.
"There was a girl he once met," Eric began, his voice low, careful. "He fell in love with her, deeply, completely. Too deeply, if you ask me. But it turned out she never loved him. She was... just a thief."
Eva felt her breath hitch, but she held her expression still. Just barely.
"After that, he changed," Eric continued. "He started drinking. Smoking. Starving himself. It wasn't just heartbreak, it became destruction. The man nearly ruined his body. That's how the gastric issue started. And just yesterday, he refused to eat again. I've called in over ten top-class chefs, but he sent all of them away. I'm worried, Miss Eva. If this goes on, we might end up rushing him to the hospital. So I thought, maybe you could help. Maybe if you cooked something for him..."
Tears prickled in Eva's eyes, and she fought hard, so hard to keep them from spilling. She dropped her gaze, not trusting herself to look Eric in the face.
"I... I think he doesn't like my food," she murmured, pretending to sound casual.
"I think he does," Eric said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"No. He doesn't," she whispered again, the pain laced in her voice. "But_ I'll cook. If it might help, I'll cook. And, if he does likes it, I wouldn't mind doing it again. A few more times."
Eric blinked. "Really? You sure your... uh, your man won't misunderstand?"
"My man?" she repeated, a bit too quickly. "Oh, you mean... him? No, it's not what you think, sir."
"It's okay," Eric said, politely brushing it off.
Not long after, Eva stood in Damien's grand, marble-clad kitchen, an unfamiliar space for her, yet somehow, it felt warm.
She got to work quietly while the elite chefs stood at the doorway, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Trained in Michelin-starred perfection, they couldn't understand what was so special about this young woman Eric had brought in.
She didn't use the gourmet stock, the imported truffles, or the rare spices lined up like trophies. Instead, she picked a few humble ingredients, diced some vegetables, and made a simple fish sauce, no flair, no flourish, just instinct and heart.
When Eric stepped in to check on her, he paused. Her back was turned, but he caught a shimmer under her eye.
"Miss Eva... are you crying?"
She quickly wiped her face and turned with a forced laugh. "Oh_no. That's just the onion's revenge."
Eric smiled softly. "I'm so sorry for the trouble. I promise to make it up to you."
"Please don't," she said, shaking her head. "Cooking calms me. And if it can help, even just a little, then it's worth it."
"You're far too kind. Thank you."
Eric nodded. Then, after a beat, his voice turned quiet. "One more thing. Please... can this stay between us? If the boss finds out, I might lose my job."
Eva raised her hand in a vow. "My lips are sealed."
He left her alone, and the moment the door shut, Eva's body sagged slightly.
The tears returned.
The truth is she's been crying since she entered into the kitchen, those tears had been threatening to fall ever since the car ride.
The moment Eric had said Damien thought she looked like his ex... the world tilted and her heart was already in her throat.
That surgery had been flawlessly done. She didn't just look different, she looked like someone entirely new. Her features had been sharpened and softened in all the right places, crafted into an elegance even more dazzling than Ana's once was. Every time she stood before a mirror, a stranger stared back at her. Even Bob had admitted, half-joking, "You don't even look like my sister anymore."
And her mother... her mother had only shaken her head in disbelief.
"This is not my daughter," she would say quietly. "This is another person entirely."
But somehow, Damien had still managed to recognize her.
And when Eric had coldly referred to Ana as nothing but a thief, something inside her cracked.
Was that how Damien saw her too? A thief? Well, she earned herself a bad reputation no doubt, but it hurts still. Knowing Damien sees her like an ordinary thief.
What else was she expecting? A hug? A welcome back?
She tried to shove the thought aside, but the pain clung to her like wet clothes.
It shouldn't hurt this much.
Yet it did.
Especially when Eric mentioned the things Damien had been doing to himself since she vanished, drinking, smoking, starving. That's when the guilt truly began to sink its claws deep into her.
She had always assumed Damien Lopez was untouchable. A man like that had probably brushed shoulders with celebrities, waded through admirers, women, power. Surely, love wouldn't be his weakness. She used to think she was just being delusional for falling for someone like him.
But now... now she was starting to wonder.
Did Damien did all that out of extreme anger of being played and stolen from, or perhaps because he also truly fell her her?
The thoughts tangled her mind into knots. She moved around the kitchen with trembling hands, trying to prepare a meal but couldn't stop the tears that began to fall. Silent at first, then harder, until her body shuddered.
He developed ulcers because of me? He started smoking because of what I did?
Eva's tears dropped into the soup as she stirred, shoulders shaking. And to make it worse, she'd nearly been caught by Eric, but all thanks to her one small white lie.
The thought of the whole thing just messed up her head big time. She didn't even know what she was doing with fidgety hands she prepared the meals as she couldn't help sobbing.
Not long after, Eric marched into Damien's room and yanked the door open.
"What is the meaning of this, Eric?" Damien snapped, looking pale and exhausted, his eyes rimmed with shadows. He frowned darkly.
"Just trust me, sir," Eric said.
Before Damien could protest, he was dragged to the dining room. The table was already set.
"I said I'm not eating!" Damien growled when he saw the plates.
"You should try this one," Eric insisted. "I'm sure you'll like it." Eric said firmly. And Damian looked at Eric with a raised brow.
Damien narrowed his eyes. The tone. The confidence. Suspicion crept in.
Could it be...? There was no way such could happen. He dispersed the idea immediately. Then he looked at the dishes which smelled so nice and then he stared at Eric again.
He scoffed. No. Impossible.
Still, the aroma wafting up from the dishes made his stomach twist. It smelled… familiar. Warm. Comforting. He hesitated.
Eric pulled out a chair. "Sit, sir. Please."
Reluctantly, Damien sank into it.
"I'll get your favorite drink," Eric added before walking off.
Damian was getting really irritated already, he looked at the whole settings and it gets on his nerves. Everything felt wrong. He hated being forced like this. Hated being dragged out of bed. Hated that his body was so weak he couldn't argue.
Eric had practically came to pull him out from the bed to this rubbish. He wanted to get angry, but when he looked at the food, it looked quite tempting and smells very nice, so he decided to sit down anyways.
He hasn't eaten since the previous day, and he was already feeling quite feverish, as his stomach pain was starting to act up, so he thought taking a few bites might help.
But when he picked up the spoon and took a bite_
He froze.
That taste.
That exact taste.
It was the taste he's been asking for. Eva's signature taste.
His eyes widened as he chewed slowly.
He swallowed as he took another bite, and then another and when Eric returned with a bottle of his favorite drink, the entire dishes were empty all cleared. He just stood with his mouth ajar.
The plate was clean. Every last dish on the table was empty and Eric just stood, drink in hand.
Eric seem genuinely, speechless, bottle still clutched in surprise.
Damien calmly wiped his mouth with a serviette, stood up, and calmly walked away without a word.
Eric just stared at the cleaned-out plates, blinking. He'd finished everything?