Edward walked into the room with a small glass bowl, the aroma of the hangover soup wafting through the air. He walked up to Annabelle, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, her face bearing the telltale signs of a rough night. With a gentle smile, he handed over the bowl containing the warm, comforting soup.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.
Annabelle accepted the soup with gratitude and sat back on the bed. Her voice was hoarse as she responded, "I woke up with a terrible headache." She whispered her thanks before carefully scooping up a spoonful of the steaming liquid. "You made this?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Edward nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yes, I thought it might help with the hangover."
