"That sounds suspiciously considerate." Elena narrowed her eyes at Alaric.
"I'm recovering. Not dead."
"That remains debatable."
Alaric rolled his eyes quietly while walking closer anyway. "Move."
"No."
"Elena."
"You'll reopen your wound trying to prove you're capable of domestic labor." She made her point.
"It's just two bowls."
"And yet men somehow still struggle."
He stared at her flatly. "You become increasingly annoying after midnight."
"And you become strangely helpful."
Neither of them moved for several seconds. Then eventually Alaric exhaled quietly in surrender.
"Fine. Do whatever you want."
"I plan to."
The corners of his mouth almost twitched upward before he stopped himself.
A few minutes later, after the dishes were finally done and the kitchen lights dimmed, Alaric headed back upstairs toward his room.
The penthouse gradually fell silent again behind him but strangely… the silence no longer felt empty tonight.
