I learned to cook because nobody was going to feed me. My mother worked three jobs. My father left when I was four. Most nights, the kitchen was dark and the fridge was empty. By seven, I could make rice. By nine, I was feeding my little sister too. Nobody taught me — I watched the neighbor through her window and copied what she did. People talk about childhood neglect like it's dramatic. Mine wasn't. There was no single terrible event. It was just... absence. The slow unders