Arrangement [H.S]

08

I practically haven't seen Harry since our brief altercation. I only saw him entering the kitchen or living room, or heard him leave the apartment. Whenever he saw me, he would throw an unpleasant comment at me or give me an unpleasant gaze.

I also heard him whining loudly all the time that I was bathing or showering for too long or spending too much time in the kitchen cooking and he couldn't eat by himself.

If I am going to live here, I have decided that I would actually act like somewhere I actually live. Not like somewhere I'm at a week-long school camp where I have to follow strange rules and rigor. So he can stick those comments up his ass.

I also crocheted a lot, recently I focused on sweaters because I had the most orders for them. Crocheting works best of all the activities I have tried to relieve stress from. In the last few days, I've crocheted five sweaters and two scarves. I'm like a goddamn crochet factory.

I remembered the day when I had decided to open my small online store. It was a rebellion of sorts, a quiet act of defiance against my mother's rigid expectations. She had always forbidden me from pursuing a formal education or working outside the home, insisting that my destiny lay in becoming a devoted housewife, just like her.

But I couldn't accept that fate, not entirely. I yearned for something more, something that would allow me to express myself and contribute to the world in my unique way. That's when the idea of the online store was born.

With the help of Alex boyfriend, who was an IT specialist, I ventured into the world of e-commerce. Together, we created a platform where I could showcase my handmade crochet creations – sweaters, scarves, hats, and more. He was a tech wizard, and he built a beautiful website that made my creations look even more enticing.

Selling to strangers felt strangely liberating. I didn't like giving my products to my relatives, as their judgments and comments always felt personal. But when it came to selling to people I didn't know, there was a sense of detachment. I couldn't see their reactions or hear their critiques in person. If they didn't like what they received, they could simply return it, and it wouldn't weigh on my conscience.

I went to the kitchen to cook myself something for dinner after all morning and afternoon work.

Cooking is also my refuge of peace. I like to cook sometimes more than eat. Baking cakes and other sweets or making fancy savory dishes gives me great joy. Unfortunately, I never have anyone to share with meals I made and I can't eat everything myself, so sometimes I have to let go and stop.

Once upon a time I wanted to cook dinner for everyone, I could even give some Roman. But my mother decided that she would not eat it and would not eat anything I ever did. I was so damn sad because I can cook very well and I wanted to please her and show that I am seriously trying to be the best daughter for her.

When I was younger, I spend my free time with our housekeeper and home cook. They were older, but whenever I was bored they willingly devoted their time to me.

Our housekeeper always kept the house and garden in order. I always ran after her whenever spring came and helped her clean up the garden. I was watering the flowers, tearing up small weeds from the ground or picking fresh fruit from the bushes in our garden. Her name was Anastasia. She was such a lovely and warm woman.

On the other hand, the home cook was a man. His name was Oscar. He had a great sense of humor and could cook sensational. He told me all the cooking secrets, advised me on what to do to make the dishes as good as possible. He agreed that I would help him cut vegetables for dinner or watch the pasta while cooking.