Author’s POV
Flynn stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen counter. The familiar scent of simmering spices filled the room, but her attention wasn’t on the meal she was preparing. Instead, she could feel the weight of Ian’s gaze from across the room, the soft hum of his disapproving presence growing louder in the space between them.
"I still don’t think it's necessary, Ian," Flynn said, her tone measured but firm. She wasn't going to give in to him, not this time. "I can handle the kitchen on my own, thank you very much. I’m more than capable of cooking without Mona’s help." Her voice carried a hint of finality, as though the matter was closed.
Ian was quiet for a moment, his gaze unwavering. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest, and the silence
