Elena walked in halfway through, the smell of garlic filling the air. She stopped at the threshold,leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. She didn’t say a word. Just watched him fumblewith a knife, chop uneven pieces, curse when the oil popped and burned his wrist.Finally, she said, “You don’t have to do that.”He turned, sweat beading at his temple, chest tight. “I want to.”Her gaze held his. Silent. Cool. Calculating. She let him stew in it, let him feel the weight of herunspoken questions—Who are you doing this for? What are you trying to prove? Do you thinkgarlic and chicken will fix what you broke?She didn’t say them. She didn’t have to.Alex stirred the pan, his movements rough, clumsy. “Sit down. I’ll bring it to you.”And she did. She sat at the table, robe still loose, legs crossed, her skin glowing against the silk.Watching him, sipping water, not offering help. Letting him sweat, letting him try, letting himbleed his guilt into the pan.When he finally set the 
 Last Updated : 2025-10-12
Last Updated : 2025-10-12