Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 8

"Miss Sheila? Is that really you?"

Sheila turned, catching Henry's gaze.

For a moment, Henry forgot all about looking for his mother. Beaming, he scurried over to Sheila's side.

Sheila's brows knit together, her voice soft and apologetic. "Henry, last night over dinner, you mentioned not liking the school lunches. I wanted to make you something myself to take today, but… I think I messed up."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the acrid smell of burning filled the air—then flames leapt up from the pan on the stove.

With a frightened gasp, Sheila dropped to the floor, curling into a tight ball.

Henry, alarmed, wrapped his arms around her and shouted, "Dad! There's a fire in the kitchen! Dad!"

As he tried to soothe her, he gently patted Sheila's back. "Miss Sheila, it's okay. Don't be scared."

Timothy hurried in, drawn by the commotion. Without missing a beat, he turned off the gas and clamped the lid onto the flaming pan. The fire sputtered out almost immediately.

But Sheila was still trembling, unable to move.

Concern shadowed Timothy's usually composed features.

He knelt down beside her and called, more gently this time, "Sheila."

Sheila slowly lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"Timothy, am I really so useless?"

A memory flashed across Timothy's mind—a fire, seven years ago.

Ever since, Sheila had been terrified of flames.

"It's not your fault. You shouldn't come into the kitchen anymore."

His gaze darkened as he looked at Henry. "Miss Sheila went through a fire once. She's afraid of it. You're not to ask her to cook for you, understand?"

Sheila shook her head, her voice urgent. "Timothy, it's not Henry's fault. He never asked me to do it."

Henry looked up at Sheila, his heart aching. "Miss Sheila, you're so afraid of fire, but you still did this for me?"

"I… I just didn't want you eating poorly at school."

Henry's eyes filled with tears as he hugged her tightly, his voice trembling. "Miss Sheila, you're too good to me. Please—don't ever go into the kitchen again, okay?"

Once Henry was in the car, Timothy drove off.

Mabel watched the car disappear down the driveway, sighing in frustration. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Jessica.

When are you coming back, ma'am?

Jessica had woken early and gone straight to the kitchen to make breakfast. As she was sautéing vegetables, she glanced at her phone and saw Mabel's message. It hit her all at once—she wasn't at The Gilded Whisper Estates.

She didn't need to cook breakfast, or pack lunch for Henry.

Habits formed over years were hard to break.

She quickly turned off the stove and dumped the half-cooked vegetables into the trash.

She'd never been much of a cook, really.

After her grandmother died when she was twelve, Jessica had scraped by on her own, relying on the paper-cutting skills her grandmother had taught her to earn a little money. She ate simply—whatever would fill her up.

Later, when she went away to college, she ate most of her meals in the campus cafeteria.