Celia strode down the stairs that morning and immediately spotted Xavier stepping out of the kitchen.
He wore a linen apron, carefully balancing a freshly prepared breakfast. Setting the plate down, he flashed her a warm smile. "Morning, Celia. Breakfast is on the table."
Her gaze swept over the feast of her favorite dishes, steaming oatmeal alongside buttery croissants.
"Remember how I brought you breakfast every day back in school?" Xavier's eyes crinkled with nostalgia.
How could she forget? He had been living on pennies then, barely scraping together ten dollars a day, half of which went to her meals. Yet he had kept it up for two solid years. That relentless devotion was why she had married him right after graduation.
A bitter smile twisted her lips. That naive girl was long gone
