Ave and Lucian finished eating supper, and they went back to their room again, and the air turned awkward.
They'd sat opposite each other in the dining hall, eating different meals. A servant in the kitchen had hurriedly prepared a simple porridge for Ave, as she couldn't stomach her own cooking—not after it had gone cold. Despite her efforts to convince her stubborn husband to eat something else, he insisted on having the cold food. He even asked her what to pair with what and requested that she serve it to him on his plate as he wasn't familiar with the modern dishes.
She had watched him devour the food she cooked without a care in the world that it had turned cold and probably tasteless. She had never seen him eat this much since the day she had come to know him. His head was bent down over his plate as he ate from each and every one of the plates she passed him from across the table like he didn't want to miss any one of them.
