Eleanor’s expression faltered slightly as Robert’s words lingered in the air. There was something inexplicably tender in his tone, something that made her gaze linger on him, unbidden. A soft blush crept up her ears, betraying the calmness she tried to maintain.
"You... know how to cook?" she asked, her lips parting slightly, though her voice remained steady. She knew Robert could steam fish, but she hadn’t expected him to be capable of preparing an entire table of dishes.
"You don’t know everything about me," Robert responded casually, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
As he spoke, he gently placed a piece of golden chicken thigh into her bowl. "Try it." His deep gaze held hers, full of anticipation, as if her approval meant more than words could say.
Under the weight of his stare, Eleanor felt an unusual warmth spread through her. She picked up her chopsticks and took a bite.
Unexpectedly, the taste was delightful—far better than she had imagined.