The next morning, Jeffrey woke up early. He wanted to cook for her—and he also started the laundry. She had been doing it for both of them without complaint, and he figured it was time he pitched in too.
As he loaded the washing machine, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he'd be here, doing laundry—not just his, but his girlfriend's too. Back home, he hadn't even known where the laundry room was. His dirty clothes would vanish from the hamper, and his closet would magically refill.
This life… it had its own charm.
He wasn't a good cook—hell, he wasn't even average—but he tried. How hard could it be to toast some bread and fry a couple of eggs?
Apparently, quite hard. Especially with the ancient equipment she owned. He stared at her toaster like it was an artifact from a museum. After some Googling, he realized it was—the model looked like it was from the 1950s.
He sighed but didn't give up.
