He Cooked for His First Love Everyday

Synopsis

I had never eaten anything my husband cooked. For five years of marriage, he woke up an hour early every morning and spent his time in the kitchen. Fried eggs. Toast. Oatmeal. Fresh fruit. The smell would fill the entire house. Once, I asked him, "Could you make me a plate, too?" He simply said, "Don't you have a cafeteria at work?" Later, I stopped asking. Then one day, I found a lunchbox in his car. It was empty. A sticky note was attached to the lid. The delicate handwriting read: [The chicken was so good today. I want barbecue ribs tomorrow.] That handwriting wasn't mine.