The kitchen was filled with the warmth of a simmering pot of stew, the soft hiss of vegetables sautéing in a pan, and the earthy aroma of rosemary. Ruthlyn moved gracefully from counter to stove, her hands busy but her mind elsewhere. She stirred the pot, her brow furrowed slightly like one deeply considering something.
"Hey," she called out, her voice barely higher than a whisper.
Behind her, Enoch was leaning against the kitchen island, lining up the groceries to be arranged in the refrigerator. His brows raised slightly at the silent, and tired, call.
"Hey... you alright?" he asked, then turned completely, "Do you need me to do anything?"
"No, absolutely not!" Ruthlyn replied, "It's just... I'm not trying to be selfish here or anything but... I was just thinking..." she trailed off again, biting down on her lower lips nervously, "Just, never mind."
