The taste of affection

Soren

It had been a week since the night I broke down in his arms, and things had taken an unexpected turn. And all the while I thought he would see me differently or assume that I am weak because I acted like a simp that night.

Every morning, without fail, Rowan made me breakfast. At first, I thought it was some twisted attempt to guilt me or, worse, pity me. But the way he watched me while I ate, like he needed to see my reaction, told me otherwise. 

He just changed, he was no longer cold towards me. He let me see the real him which just focused on me.

"Don't forget the honey tomorrow," I said as I leaned back in my chair, licking the last drop of syrup from my fork. He stood by the counter, arms crossed, his ever-present scowl softening when I spoke.

"You're awfully demanding for someone who didn't want me to do this in the first place," he shot back, though there was no bite in his tone.