She didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually, she heard his breathing gradually calm. Then his hoarse voice spoke up.
"Do you want something to eat? I'll make it for you."
After a long day, including coming home from work and everything that happened between them, neither of them had had dinner yet. His suggestion made her realize she was hungry too. But wait—he wanted to cook for her?
She remembered how much he hated the smell of cooking oil in the kitchen. Despite being a great cook, he never stepped into the kitchen. She really didn't understand how he managed to hone such culinary skills without ever going near it.
There was one time when she had a small cold—not a serious illness, but enough for her to be irritable. She had been upset with him for moving in with her, so she had been trying to get him to leave by any means. She would try different ways to annoy him, hoping he would decide to go on his own.
