Mrs. York came downstairs only to find Tyrone and Quintessa very close to each other, with Tyrone half-leaning over Quintessa. Her cheeks flushed red as she cleared her throat, "Ahem, mind your manners!" Tyrone, with a slight smirk, not only didn't back off but kissed Quintessa on the cheek before saying, "Mom, I want spaghetti alle vongole."

Mrs. York huffed, "Be glad there's anything for you at all. Don't be picky with me."

Despite her words, Wilma brought out two plates of spaghetti alle vongole from the kitchen a few minutes later.

Long strands of spaghetti mixed with a white wine-infused sauce, tender clams, and a sprinkle of fresh parsley made the dish exquisitely inviting.

Mrs. York removed her apron, handed it to Wilma, and told them both, "Eat up while it's hot, and hurry on out after you're done."

Despite her seemingly dismissive tone, she couldn't help but remind them the dish was hot and to be careful not to burn themselves.

The plate in front of her made Quintessa paused. Memories from long ago were suddenly evoked, transporting her back in time. She was an 8-year-old girl again, hearing her mother's gentle advice. "Quinn, be a dear and finish your meal, okay? Mommy will be back soon."

"Quinn, if someday I can't cook for you, you still have to eat well, no pickiness, you hear?"

"Quinn, even if I'm not by your side, you must always be brave and strong."

And then, she never came back.

you eating?" Mrs. York's voice snapped Quintessa back to reality. She

her hands trembling. The lightweight spaghetti seemed impossible to

with you, eating like a child? Can't handle

"How does it taste?"

head

frowned, sensing something off in

memory of her mother's cooking. Quintessa's hands shook even more, tears threatening to fall. Each bite of spaghetti felt like a stone lodged

UMS

dish, and commented with a hint of disdain, "Mom,

instead of being so picky," Mrs. York retorted, visibly more pleased with Quintessa's demeanor than

in the kitchen if

12.

girls, skinny isn't beautiful. Starving yourself can only

overwhelmed Quintessa. Her tears broke free,

"I'm sorry, I

ran out of the York family home without her bag, leaving Mrs.

was wrong, Tyrone said, "I'll go

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