Iris had noticed a change in me lately, and it was evident in my puffy and bloodshot eyes. Concerned for my well-being, she insisted on staying at my condo that night. As a doctor, she had developed a daily routine of taking care of me, ensuring I was healthy both physically and emotionally.
That evening, she took charge of the kitchen, preparing a comforting meal for us. The aroma of her cooking filled the air, mingling with the tension that seemed to linger between us. She has been attending a cooking class with the belief that if she improves her culinary skills, the aroma of her food alone will be enough to make someone feel satisfied, and they will crave it even more after tasting it.
As we sat down to eat, she looked at me with a mixture of worry and tenderness, her eyes reflecting
