The atmosphere around the breakfast table was tense and slightly awkward.
Lucas's mother glanced at Claire, who was quietly sipping her porridge with her head lowered, and then turned her gaze to her son, who was seated far across the table, eyes fixed on a newspaper as he alternated between reading and eating. After a moment, her attention returned to Claire, an unspoken question in her eyes.
"Claire, dear, is my cooking not to your liking?" she asked with a warm smile.
Lost in thought, Claire looked up quickly, surprised by the question. "Oh, no, it's delicious! You're such a great cook," she replied, trying her best to sound cheerful.
As soon as she said it, she felt two pairs of surprised eyes dart toward her, and her hand trembled slightly as she held her bowl. She peeked over her shoulder and noticed that Lucas had already returned his attention to the newspaper, but the brief flash of surprise in his expression left her unsettled.
Lucas's mother studied her for a moment, a bit puzzled. "If it's that good, why are you only having porridge? And your cheeks are all red—did you not sleep well last night? Maybe you caught a chill?"
"No, no, I slept very well," Claire replied quickly, though her cheeks flushed even hotter. She seemed to forget that the one who had "accidentally" locked all the other bedroom doors last night was none other than Lucas's mother herself.
Lucas's mother frowned slightly, as if she wanted to ask something else, but Lucas suddenly broke in with a pointed question that caught her off guard.
"Mom, did you happen to 'accidentally' lock the other bedrooms again last night?" His emphasis on "accidentally" was unmistakable.
Really? Lucas was making it sound as if she did this all the time. Though she had only done it… two… er, maybe four times at most. She shot her son a disapproving look, then gave Claire a slightly sheepish smile.
"Claire, if you feel uncomfortable in that room, I can prepare another room for you," she offered, testing the waters but clearly hopeful that Claire would choose to stay put.
Claire placed her bowl down and glanced sideways at Lucas, his "ED" diagnosis flashing across her mind with an almost comical intensity. His hurt, angered expression from the night before came flooding back. If she moved to a different room now, it would only wound his pride more. But staying… staying was its own challenge. The disdain and irritation in his gaze were as clear as ever.
But, Claire, didn't you promise yourself you'd offer him kindness and understanding, no matter what? Even if he despises you, can you really just walk away now? And hadn't you promised his mother you wouldn't leave him? A small voice questioned her resolve.
Yes, she reminded herself. She had made that promise, and there was no reason to back down now.
Looking up with a gentle, resolved smile, Claire replied, "Mom, the room is perfectly fine. I think I'll get used to it soon enough." There was a subtle double meaning in her words.
A moment of surprise passed over Lucas's face, and his eyes, heated and unexpectedly intrigued, settled on hers. But Claire met his gaze head-on, her eyes steady and resolute.
Foolish woman, Lucas muttered inwardly, tearing his gaze away to focus back on his newspaper, though a lightness he hadn't expected suddenly lifted his spirits.
"Such a kind-hearted girl you are, Claire," his mother murmured, her voice trembling just a bit.
Lucas rolled his eyes, deciding it was high time to shift his mother's attention elsewhere.