Mia smiled. "Or you can also pray for the other party to be safe and sound forever."
Claire gave her a cold glance. "This joke is not funny."
"Um… alright."
At this time, the door was knocked.
"The food is ready."
Mia looked at Claire. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
For some reason, Claire nodded.
Living room.
The woman set the table and said softly, "You eat first. I'll go check on the soup."
Claire turned her head and stared at the busy figure of the woman in the kitchen, which gradually overlapped with the figure in her memory.
Perceiving her gaze, Mia asked. "Why do you keep looking at my mother?"
As if being awakened from a dream, Claire looked a little sad. "Your mother… looks like a person I know."
"Who?"
"My mother." Claire's eyes turned misty and her voice became bitter. "When she was alive, she always wore an apron, busy all day long as if she was never tired."
