Persephone awoke early the following morning, engaging in the kitchen despite her nearly non-existent culinary
skills. The art of self-sufficiency had only become a part of her repertoire since her arrival.
Previously reluctant, she now enthusiastically approached the task, humming as she cooked.
With a tablet perched on the windowsill, she meticulously flipped through images, faithfully following the recipe
steps. An instinctive smile graced her face throughout the cooking process.
Her motivation? Morpheus.
Each meal she prepared was an expression of her affection for him.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtThe fried egg bore the evidence of a slight mishap—she hadn't mastered the intricacies of frying. The milk flirted
with boiling over. Yet, imperfections aside, she believed that her kitchen prowess would blossom with continued
effort.
After all, wasn't it said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach?
Grinning like a fool, she panickedly turned off the gas as the pan sizzled.
A knock on the door interrupted her contemplation of the next steps.
She rushed to answer and found Seamus dumbfounded at the sight of her perspiring in her apron.
"Miss—"
"Shh!" Persephone hushed him, gesturing. "Lower your voice. Morpheus is still sleeping! And didn't I instruct you not
to use that title here?"
Seamus nodded obediently. "Roger that."
Seamus was aware that Morpheus must be fatigued from yesterday's match and in no shape to serve her. As such,
he had brought her breakfast.
However, upon entering, a burnt aroma assailed his senses. A quick survey of the kitchen revealed a chaotic scene.
Yet, amidst the disorder, she managed to salvage a respectable meal. Fried eggs, toast with cheese, pancakes, and
a bit of salad were presented.
In the midst of her musings, she murmured, "Maybe I should try cooking steak..."
Seamus seized the moment, grabbing her hand.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmStartled, she stared at him blankly. "What are you doing? You scared me!"
"Sephy..."
She observed disappointment, rage, and indescribable emotions in his eyes.
Confused, she asked, "What's wrong?"
He hesitated, choosing not to give it to her straight. Since she was young, she had been his little princess.
Staring at her, he felt pain seeing the blisters on her once pretty arms from splattering hot oil.
"I-I bought breakfast," he said. "Stop cooking and go eat."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "Did you buy steak? Morpheus likes steak."