While Karlo was cooking, I was secretly busy recording him. He has an apron now. The stove was busy producing fire in a frying pan for the chicken fillets and a pot for the mushroom soup. He would wash the ladles and small plates. Then wash the rag to dry off the sink.

I’m supposed to do that because I am a woman, right? It should be my duty!

I pouted profusely. My shoulders sank in dismay when I thought about being incapable of cooking. All my life, only maids or Mom would cook for me. ...