A rich, enticing aroma wafted out from the kitchen in no time. Albert Wilson lay on the couch, weak and weary, clutching his growling stomach. The tempting smell of noodles filled the air, and as he imagined her bustling in the kitchen, cooking for him, his nose tingled with a sharp ache of emotion.
There was no luxurious house, no extravagant feast, and she hadn't even shown him the slightest warmth. Yet, this simple bowl of noodles stirred an almost overwhelming urge to cry.
All he wanted, really, was this—something plain, warm, and blissfully simple.
He thought to himself, Maybe spending this year with her wouldn't be so bad after all.
Just as he was lost in thought, the kitchen door swung open. He sat up abruptly, his eyes lighting up as they locked on the bowl of noodles she carried. The noodles glistened, with a perfectly poached egg floating on top, instantly making his mouth water.
