I had been conducting field research on the food delivery market, yet my future mother-in-law looked down on my work.

When Milo Evans brought me home, she deliberately spilled hot soup all over me, then turned around and accused me with self-righteous indignation.

“You little girl, how can you be so malicious? I only said a few words and now you’re framing me?”

Milo didn’t even glance my way. He ignored every word of explanation I gave and forced me to apologize.

Because my injuries were too severe and I wanted to get to the hospital sooner, I chose to apologize and keep the peace.

But she only escalated things further, deliberately staging an accident while I was delivering food.

She suddenly charged out and shoved me to the ground, causing both of my arms to fracture, then turned around and lay on the ground, wailing in fake agony.

“The delivery girl hit me! These heartless youngsters bullying the elderly!”

I looked toward the dashcam mounted on the vehicle, but she snatched it away and threw it into the river.

“I want to see whether the police believe a filthy delivery worker like you or someone like me!”

Milo rushed to the scene and before I could say a word, he slapped me across the face.

"I’ve never seen such a cruel woman! We’re done!"

After the breakup, they threatened to sue me until I had nothing left. As they bragged about how incredible Milo’s new girlfriend was, her face suddenly turned pale with fear.

"President Harper, I don’t know them at all! Please don’t misunderstand!"

——

To better understand the food delivery market, I disguised myself as a delivery worker to experience the process firsthand.

But the very first order brought something unexpected.

Just as I arrived at the complex entrance, I overheard a few aunties chatting.

"Oh, Sister Laura, is that the bag your daughter-in-law got you? It’s gorgeous; it must’ve been pricey!"

"Your son has great taste. Not like mine…"

That voice sounded oddly familiar. I glanced over but didn’t recognize the old woman at all.

Then she caught sight of me. Her smile vanished instantly, her lips curling in disapproval.

The way she looked at me felt as if she were staring at filth.

My heart sank; something wasn’t right.

Sure enough, she let out a dramatic gasp and strode straight toward me, blocking my path.

"Food delivery?" she asked, eyes scanning me up and down. Her voice wasn’t loud, but just enough for the nearby women to hear.

"Yes, Auntie. Building 4, Unit 401."

At that, her face lit up with pride. She turned around to show off to the others.

"It’s from my Milo again! I told him not to waste money, but that child..."

The nearby aunties immediately joined in, showering her with false praises, all admiring how capable and filial her son was.

I worried the order would be marked late, so I tried to step around her and head inside.

"Hey! Don’t go! That’s my food!"

She pointed at the delivery bag in my hand. "It’s the one, right? Just give it here."

I stepped back slightly. "Auntie, could you please show me your resident ID? Without it, I’m not allowed to hand over the order."

Her expression darkened and she suddenly raised her voice.

"What, you think I’d lie just to steal food from a delivery worker?"

"You low-class thing with eyes like a dog! People like you shouldn’t even be allowed in here; you’re dirtying our neighborhood!"

Before I could react, she snatched the food from my hands and turned to wave down security.

I wanted to defend myself, but the guard who came over quickly pulled me aside.

"Don’t argue. These older women are hard to reason with. She really is from Unit 401. Just let her take it."

Unconvinced, I pulled out my phone and dialed the recipient's number.

Sure enough, her phone began to ring.

Just as relief washed over me and I was about to turn and leave, a sharp, mocking voice sliced through the air behind me.

“Hold it! Did you mess with my delivery?!”

I turned around, startled. Our delivery packages all came with sealed stickers; how could I possibly have touched anything?

She snatched the bag, scrunched her nose and leaned in to sniff it.

“What’s that smell?”

She waved a hand in front of her face, grimacing as if the bag reeked of something foul.

“This packaging is a disaster; it all smells like one big mess!”

An older woman standing nearby chimed in.

“Yeah, Sister Corinne, these takeouts nowadays are so questionable when it comes to hygiene. Who knows if these delivery workers are carrying something…”

I sneered inwardly. I had packed that meal with my own hands, every container sealed and placed carefully inside an insulated bag, how could the smells have possibly mixed?

“Auntie, our packaging follows proper standards. If you check the seals—”

“Check what?”

She cut me off rudely and then began tearing open the bag.

“I’ve got a sensitive stomach. If I get sick from this, are you going to take responsibility?”

One by one, she pulled the containers out and placed them on a stone bench nearby.

Under the sunlight, the braised pork shimmered with a glossy sheen, while the greens looked fresh and crisp.

“Oh? This portion doesn’t look right.” She picked up the rice container and weighed it in her hand.

“Why does it feel lighter? Did you help yourself to some along the way?”

I took a deep breath, forcing down the fire rising in my chest.

"Auntie, we have surveillance on every order. The portions are standard. And riders like us—"

"Rules?" she cut me off with a sneer. "Can you eat rules?"

"I bet none of you in this job are clean! You all look messy, hanging around the entrance like strays, absolute disgrace!"

"Auntie, if you have concerns about the food, you can file a complaint through the app or reach out to the restaurant directly."

I kept my voice steady, even though my fingers clenched tightly at my sides.

"If you believe the portion is wrong, I can take a photo and report it."

"Report it? I want a refund!"

"I’m reporting you! You’ve got a terrible attitude! You stole food! I’ll make sure you lose your job!"

Her spit flew as she raged, the wrinkles on her face twitching with excitement.

By now, a small crowd had formed around us.

I could feel their eyes, hear the murmurs.

"…young people these days…"

"…can’t even deliver food properly…"

I slowly relaxed my fists and adjusted the bodycam clipped to my chest. It was meant to record the process, but now it is serving a greater purpose.

"Auntie, everything you just said has been recorded."

"As for the refund and complaint, I’ll file it according to company policy. If you have further concerns..."

She clearly hadn’t expected my composure. Her eyes widened, then burned with fresh anger.

"You’re recording me? What’s that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me now?"

"It’s not a threat. It’s protocol." I met her gaze and said it word by word.

My stare rattled her, but she still refused to back down.

"I’d love to see what you can do! Get out of here! You’re an eyesore!"

She waved me off like I was something beneath her.

Meanwhile, my phone kept vibrating with late delivery alerts. The next order was already at risk.

I didn’t have time to argue. I turned and walked away.

Behind me, her shrill voice rang out one last time.

“What kind of person is that? I must’ve hit the nail on the head!”

Behind me, her shrill voice rang out again, persistent as ever. I swallowed down the urge to snap back and quietly left with the security guard.

In the rearview mirror of my electric scooter, I caught one last glimpse of that old woman spitting as she complained to the neighbors, a smug look painted plainly across her face.

That night, when I returned to the cramped rental room, Milo was already home.

Seeing my pale expression, he rushed over and began massaging my shoulders, eager to please.

“What happened? Who dared to upset our Vespera?”

I turned my head, meeting his cheerful eyes and recounted everything that had happened at noon with a bitter heart.

But in the end, Milo only laughed it off with casual disdain.

“Vespera, didn’t I already say? Delivering takeout isn’t a great idea. Everyone’s doing it these days and let’s be honest, the quality of delivery workers is pretty low and they are always flying down the streets like maniacs...”

“Why argue with an old woman? Just quit in a few days. That job’s exhausting and embarrassing anyway...”

“Enough. Don’t say another word.”

I cut him off coldly and he froze in place.

“I earn my living through honest labor, delivering food. There’s nothing shameful about that.”

“Nowadays, the meals are sealed and the platform has proper rules. Is this job really as disgraceful as you make it sound?”

Because I was angry, my tone came out a little too sharp. Milo stood there, dumbfounded.

He clearly hadn’t expected such a fierce reaction from me. For a moment, he just froze, then hurriedly waved his hands.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? I was being humiliated right to my face and instead of standing up for me, you’re telling me to switch jobs?”

“Vespera, why let someone like that get to you?” His voice started to carry a hint of irritation.

“She’s old, probably just hard to get along with. You should be more understanding toward the elderly.”

“And don’t take your work stress out on me; I didn’t do anything to you!”

Listening to him speak with such self-righteousness, I suddenly found it laughable.

I had met Milo two months ago on the street.

He’d approached me while I was eating and since I happened to be beginning my research on the food delivery market, I told him I was working as a delivery driver.

Back then, he wasn’t like this at all.

“I think being a delivery worker is great. It has flexible hours and decent pay, but it's just a bit tough.”

Now, all of it felt ridiculous. I gave up arguing and walked straight into the bathroom.

After dinner, Milo came into the study to find me.

His voice was gentler this time, admitting he had been wrong and shouldn’t have said those things.

He said he wanted to take me home to meet his mother, an official introduction.

Though I was still upset, I figured since he had already told her about me, I might as well go along with it.

But the moment I stepped into his neighborhood, I froze on the spot.

I stared at the familiar streets and the familiar building, unable to take another step.

Turning to him in confusion, I asked, “Which floor is your place?”

“401. I told you before, didn’t I?”

Milo looked back at me and when he saw my expression shift, it seemed to hit him all at once.

“The delivery you mentioned that day, was it my house?”

His face darkened instantly, but only for a second. He quickly smoothed it over, pretending like nothing happened and reached out to take my hand.

“It’s fine. My mom’s easy to talk to. You’ll see once you meet her.”

With unease weighing on me, I followed behind Milo, my mind scrambling for a plan.

But just then, the door swung open.

“Milo! You’re finally back!”