Abby sat at the breakfast table, her gaze fixed on her plate as she carefully spread butter on a piece of toast. Remo, sitting across from her, looked sheepish but amused. He twirled a fork in his eggs, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery.
Abby's lips were pursed, and her brows were slightly furrowed, clearly showing her displeasure.
She took a deliberate sip of her orange juice, still refusing to meet Remo's eyes. Remo, attempting to lighten the tension, cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, uh, Abby, how's that toast? Extra crispy, just how you like it?" he ventured, his tone a mix of playful and softness.
Abby's jaw tightened, but she remained silent, her eyes now fixated on a spot on the wall. Remo sighed softly, realizing the depth of his mistake. He put down his fork and leaned forward, his voice gentler this time.
