BRYSON’s HOME
Chantelle walked out of the room, rubbing at her sleepy eyes. Her throat itched for some glass of milk and extra sleep at the same time. Even though it's already morning, she would still like to curl up into bed and shut her eyes for an hour or two. After working her back off to curate a flavor idea that had popped into her head all night, she requires the rest. Chantelle halted in her steps when she found Bryson in the kitchen, cooking with so much seriousness. She swallowed hard, contemplating whether she should go back or take what she needed and leave. But then the latter wasn’t an option; she wanted the warm milk so sour.
Bryson noticed her but chose not to mind her as he plated the food he had prepared. He had an early morning meeting, and it was the first physical me
