[✅]Recipe For Love [Seokjin X Reader]

Step 9: Mix Well Over High Heat but be Careful to not Overmix

"They caused my brother's death."

His eyes widen at that, shocked at the notion of a parent killing their child.

"My family are kinda big deals back where I come from. Socialites, big multinational corporation and the such. My parents are always working so they're always not around. So it was always me and my brother. Even though our age gap was about 10 years, he was my big brother. He kinda brought me up in a way. But my parents had extremely high expectations of him. He was always expected to be the best at everything. Be it school, club activities, student councils. If his grades were to even drop, there was no end to it. And I think it is because he was born a boy, and is the firstborn, that my parents set the bar so high. Even more so, when he is expected to be the one to take over the family business. 

We were both brought up and I guess you can say we were trained to be in that world. The world of endless meetings, parties, networking, politics, deals. But I was so lucky to have him. I never had to bear that much weight, purely because of his existence. He always protected me. Anytime we stepped out of line, according to our parent's expectations, he always took the blame, the brunt of it, always encouraging me to do the things I want. He made sure that I was free to take risks. I ever only had my older brother. He never had the choice to do what he wanted. So even when he fell in love, it was taken from him. Marriages were never about love, it was about business interests. 

When he found his dream, he never had the chance to pursue it. Because of my parents expectations, his dreams were considered a waste of time and added no value to the business. That is why when he found out about mine, he told to go after it. He fully supported me, giving me all the information I needed, even planning out the time for me to do so. He tried to push me out of the nest. So I learnt on the sly but I was afraid to truly chase it. I never flew."

Your voice quivers as the memories you buried deep down trudge to the surface and you take a deep breath to compose yourself.

"I was the one who found him. He had only one letter by his bedside, and it was addressed to me. I remember the night before, clear as day, we were fooling around in the kitchen. I was making him try one of my brownies. We laughed over how sweet the frosting was and he told me how I should change it for different flavours. He said that he needed to drink tea plainly because of the frosting. I got annoyed because he kept whining, so I smeared the leftover batter on his face. It turned into a total food fight and we had to clean up in secret because we couldn't risk our parents finding out.

I didn't go into the kitchen for a year after that, I was grieving. If my parents ever did, they didn't show it. It was as though they were just scrambling trying to deal with this 'crisis'. I saw someone in my brother's room, and I raged like I never have before. I even manhandled her, pushing her out of the room, screaming at the person to get out, and not touch a single thing in the room. I sat at his desk, looking at the pen and paper he left behind. I was so lost. It was then I remembered the letter, the one from him, the one I stashed away because I couldn't bear to have that part of him to be consumed."

"What did the letter say?"

"Be brave. He told me to chase my dream, for if he can't, someone in this family jolly well should. He said that my food made people happy. It made people feel safe and comforted. It made people feel loved and appreciated. It made him feel all of those. I wailed and raged and grieved. Until finally, I accepted. 

So, now I'm living his dream for him. To be free to do what I want. I had a trust fund, so I took the only thing my parents ever had to offer me. I took the money and used it to pay for school fees for cooking school for the next 6 years, taking courses in both cooking and baking. I used it to pay for an airticket, and a deposit for a place to stay. I packed my things, and had them shipped and I left six months after I turned 18. I never took a single cent from parents thereafter and I never saw them again. I knew I was privileged, I had a roof over my head, but everything else after, I earned it with my own two hands. I wrote papers, I did accounts, I tutored kids, I worked in cafes. The school offered me a management program and I took it. They sent out emails asking for proposals and I sent mine.