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.

“The only time you’re not lazing around like a couch potato is when you’re writing your manuscripts. What’s gotten into

her apron and threw it toward Amelia. “Go wash your face and come eat. Keep yapping on

cooked. How could I miss it? But hold up—are they actually edible?” Having thrown out her last jab, Amelia hurriedly dashed

lost!” Tiffany shook her head, but her

manuscripts. As Amelia 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 night, it wouldn’t be

food to still taste like heaven,” Amelia complimented. “I have

who could set fire in the kitchen by simply boiling water, it’s not that hard for me to be

soup before abruptly adding, “Tiff, do you think I could win Oscar

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

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