Chapter 512: Glimpse of Jack’s Last Days (5)
Chapter 512: Glimpse of Jack’s Last Days (5)
Of course, a high cooking score for a dish didn’t necessarily mean it was better than one with a lower score. No matter how skillfully someone prepared sushi, it was hard to score an eight. But that wasn’t the real issue. A dish that easily earned a high cooking score usually had a complicated, difficult cooking process, making it unlikely for people to make or enjoy in daily life.
Realising this, Minjoon wondered if a dinner made solely of such dishes would work. But he didn’t have to ponder long because he soon understood that even the best restaurants pleased customers more when chefs offered simple dishes. Like how, after eating something rich, a person might crave a refreshing cup of tea.
Daniel, however, was the opposite. He often used complex, esoteric techniques to create dishes nobody could imagine at first. In other words, after dozens of elaborate steps, the final product was something deceptively simple. How would it feel if the taste produced through all that process was just plain strawberry flavour?
“Man, I won’t get any sleep tonight...”
Suddenly wide awake, Minjoon thought that any chef who could sleep comfortably after discovering such a recipe would no longer be a true chef. But he couldn’t focus—just then, noise from Anderson and Janet’s room reached him. Anderson hurried over, panting.
“She’s having contractions!”
Janet was due to give birth earlier than expected.
Because her due date was sooner than predicted, they were less prepared.
As they rushed to the hospital with Janet, Anderson’s mind filled with disturbing thoughts. He didn’t know why the bad ones came first. Restless and anxious, he couldn’t dwell on happier things.
He was simply scared. Scared she might not survive labour. Scared they’d lose the baby. Even when comforted, fear often caused him to tremble. That unexpected joy after marrying Janet was so warm and cosy, the thought of losing it terrified him.
Now, with Janet enduring contractions, his fear intensified—her trembling, tears, groans—they scared him more than anything. Yet he forced himself to suppress that fear, knowing she would be frightened if she sensed it too.
Anderson clasped her hands, surprised by how tightly she squeezed his fingers—as if to reassure herself. So, he held her hands gently, softly.
He whispered to her countless words. Occasionally, he raised his voice, afraid she wasn’t hearing him. He couldn’t recall every word. Maybe he told her he loved her, or pleaded for her to endure labour. Maybe he promised things would be alright afterwards, or expressed gratitude and sorrow.
He didn’t follow her into the surgery room. Janet said she didn’t want him to see her in such a state—perhaps because of how she felt about her pregnancy. Her fierce effort during labour resembled an ordinary human struggling to survive more than a woman in pain. But she wanted to be seen as just ordinary, not someone battling death in front of him.
Anderson understood but felt a deep sorrow hearing her screams from outside. He paced the hall repeatedly, biting his nails, drinking water to moisten his throat.
Watching the clock, he thought an hour must have passed, but the minute hand hadn’t yet reached the halfway point. People gently patted his shoulder, offering kind words, but nothing calmed him.
Every time the delivery room door opened and doctors or nurses came and went, he stared blankly.
After two hours, a doctor returned. Anderson barely noticed; the doctor seemed busy with other tasks but slowly approached him. Anderson couldn’t read the doctor’s expression beneath the mask—his mind was elsewhere.
“Mr Anderson?”
“Yes.”
The doctor removed his mask. Anderson wanted to shout, desperate for news, but found it hard even to breathe, let alone speak.
Instead, he widened his eyes, searching the doctor’s tired face for relief.
In an exhausted voice, the doctor said without smiling, “Congratulations. Both your wife and baby daughter are doing well.”
Anderson thanked the doctor sincerely, appreciating the man’s fatigue.
Anderson and Janet’s daughter was named Catherine. Gazing through the glass wall, Kaya stared blankly at the newborn baby girl. She was so beautiful.
“She’s so pretty.”
Minjoon didn’t quite agree. As a newborn, Catherine had smooth skin free of wrinkles and red spots, but she was as newborn as any other—too early to call pretty just yet.
Still, Kaya looked at her with pure adoration. Not only Kaya, but Chloe and Amelia’s eyes brimmed with affection and wonder.
“Yeah, she looks so pretty because she’s Eurasian, isn’t she?” Kaya said.
“If you say that to me, it really weighs on me,” Minjoon replied.
“Good! That’s exactly why I said it. So take what I said seriously.”
He smiled and tousled her hair. Kaya protested, complaining he messed her carefully styled hair. He knew she was busy putting on makeup, wanting to make a good impression on Catherine.
But she wasn’t the only one made up. After applying gentle, natural makeup, Chloe wore a neat suit. She smiled brightly at the newborn who couldn’t even open her eyes properly.
“Cathy! I’m your aunt Chloe! Call me aunt! Aunt!”
“What are you doing to a baby who can’t open her eyes?”
“Don’t you know you have to ask even a baby? Who knows, she might say my name before Anderson or Janet’s!”
Chloe eagerly pressed her hand against the delivery room window, as if ready to hug Catherine the second she was brought out.
That moment didn’t take long. Soon, a nurse wheeled Catherine on a cart into Janet’s room. Minjoon, Kaya, and Chloe followed.
Janet lay exhausted in bed, staring blankly at Catherine.
The nurse asked gently, “Would you like to hold her?”
“Yes...” Janet whispered hoarsely.
Catherine was soon cradled in her arms—her baby, more precious than anyone else in the world. Janet gently stroked Catherine’s head, still seeming to dream.
Afraid to wake her, she touched Catherine’s cheeks with delicate fingers, prompting admiration from those nearby.
It was a beautiful scene of mother and child. They had never before seen such a subtle smile on Janet’s lips when holding Cathy. Always stiff and tense, always either a chef or neither a woman nor a human, Janet’s new role as mother made everyone see her freshly.
Janet was beautiful—so much so that they had never thought her so before. She was as radiant as on her wedding day. Only now did she truly look like a woman.
“I envy you, Janet,” Chloe murmured softly.