Vaspera froze the moment she noticed Ren standing in the kitchen doorway.
The knife in her hand stalled mid-air, gripped in a way that looked less like cooking and more like she was preparing to assassinate a tomato. For two long seconds, she stood there—statuesque, rigid—eyes wide, as if her mind had suddenly forgotten the entire concept of being caught.
Then realization slammed into her.
Her shoulders jerked, and she nearly dropped the knife. A faint flush raced up her cheeks, soft pink against her skin.
"Haaah—! Yo–you—what are you doing here?" she snapped, voice cracking slightly. "W–weren't you in your room?"
Ren blinked. "I—uh—came to make us something for dinner." He glanced around at the vegetable massacre. "But what… what exactly are you doing in the kitchen?"
"Me?" She straightened instantly, chin tilted up with exaggerated dignity, though the tomato juice on her fingers destroyed the effect.
"I—well—I… yeah. I just got bored of your cooking. So I thought I'd, you know… make some curry."
"Bored?" Ren echoed, raising a brow.
"Y-yes!" She nodded too fast. "Bored. Completely tired of it. So today, just watch me cook. I'll—I'll show you how it's done."
Her expression was fighting for authority but failing spectacularly: flustered bravado, pride duct-taped together, and the tiniest glimmer of fear that he might call her bluff.
"Well… okay, I guess." Ren scratched the back of his neck. "Go ahead."
Vaspera coughed softly, then resumed her "cutting."
Her grip on the knife was so wrong it looked painful, and she squeezed the tomato so tightly it pulped under her fingers before the blade even touched it.
Ren watched for five seconds.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Hah—HA—HAHAHAHA!"
He doubled over, hand clutching his stomach, his laughter echoing through the kitchen like a sudden burst of sunlight.
Vaspera snapped her head up. "W-wha—what are you laughing a—"
But the sentence died in her throat.
She caught sight of him—really saw him—the golden wash of the sunset illuminating his face through the window. His white hair shimmered with a warm tint, the light softening the lines of his expression. That laughter… it was loud, bright, alive. Something she hadn't heard from him since afternoon.
Her eyes widened.
Her lips curled up just a fraction—barely noticeable, but genuine.
…he's smiling again.
Ren finally stopped laughing, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, but that's not how you hold a knife. You're doing it absolutely wrong."
Vaspera puffed her cheeks, pouting slightly.
"W-well, I was a good chef once! I'll have you know. I'm just… out of practice. Haven't cooked in a while. That's all."
"Uh-huh." Ren grinned. "Sure. Let me show you."
He stepped beside her.
She stiffened—not obviously, just a small silence in her breath—as he gently adjusted the knife in her hand. His fingers brushed hers for a split second, warm and steady. The lamp hanging above flickered, casting soft orange light that danced through the strands of his hair.
And suddenly, she remembered.
That very first night she brought him here—the dim lamp, the warm food, his smile over their first dinner together. The scene overlapped perfectly with the present for a heartbeat.
Time flies by so fast, she thought, a ghost of a smile brushing her lips
"Madam Vaspera—" Ren said, snapping her from her thoughts.
"Huh?" Her head jerked up too quickly. "Y-yes, I'm listening! Of course I am!"
Ren squinted. "...Then do you want to try cutting it?"
Her eyes flicked to the knife, then back at him. "About that… I—no. I don't. I changed my mind. I don't want to cook anymore. You make it. I'll just… help."
"Right." Ren chuckled. "Whatever you say."
The kitchen slowly filled with the aroma of spices as Ren took over.
Vaspera hovered at his side—not actually helping, more like observing every movement with laser focus.
Ren sautéed the spices in the heated pan over the emberstone hearth, the soft glow pulsing beneath the pot like a sleeping fire spirit. He chopped vegetables with practiced motions, explaining his steps even though she was clearly listening only half the time.
But she watched him closely: the rhythm of his movements, the natural calm on his face as he cooked, the way the orange lamp light warmed his usually pale features.
Minutes slipped by like water.
"Dinner's ready," Ren said at last. "You go ahead. I'll serve."
They sat across from each other at the dining table, bowls of curry in front of them. The only sounds were the clinks of spoons, the bubbling from the hearth, and the faint night wind brushing the windows.
No awkward tension.
Just quiet, shared peace.
After they finished, Ren gathered the dishes.
"I'll wash them tomorrow," he said, placing them in the kitchen.
When he returned, Vaspera was still seated, hands folded neatly, posture softening in a way that almost looked… hesitant.
"You're not going to sleep?" Ren asked.
"Huh? I—" She blinked, then looked away. "I'll sit here for a few minutes. I guess."
"Alright then. I'm going."
Ren turned toward his room.
"Ah—w-wa—"
Her voice tripped over itself; half a word escaped her lips, as if she wanted him to stay. But she closed her mouth before the rest came out.
Ren paused. "Do you need something?"
"N-no. It's nothing."
She looked down, cheeks faintly colored, disappointment mixing with embarrassment.
Ren nodded slowly and continued.
But before he pushed open his door, he stopped and looked back one last time.
"Um… Madam Vaspera?"
Her head shot up so fast her hair swayed with the motion, eyes bright as if she'd been waiting for exactly this.
"Thank you for the dinner."
Then he finnally entered his room, closing the door behind him.
Vaspera sat there, frozen for a heartbeat, staring at the closed door.
Then, as the echo of his words settled, her perfect posture deflated just a little. Her shoulders dropped; tension slipped away; a soft, unguarded smile bloomed on her lips.
This… isn't too bad, she thought, Soft heat settled deep in her chest like the fading ember.
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