Hirvan felt the weight of three pairs of eyes on him, studying him intently.
After a minute of enduring their silent scrutiny, he couldn't take it anymore. "What?" he asked, his voice tinged with impatience.
Sheryl's smile turned sly, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.
"So, tell us, who is that porridge really for?"
"Huh?" Hirvan blinked in confusion. How did they figure it out so quickly?
Sheryl's grin widened.
"First of all, you hate anything sour. You always go for sweet stuff. Second, you've never been a fan of rice porridge; you usually prefer the one made with wheat, especially if it's got meat in it like the one you are eating. Lastly, you have been wearing a silly smile on your face since arriving here. So, Did you meet someone? come on, spill the beans. Who's it for?"
Hirvan was stunned into silence.
' Was I smiling?"
He touched his face in a daze.
