MADELINE'S POV
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It's safe to say that I'm never allowed to cook anything again, because when I get to the suite at dusk, the entire fridge is empty except for fruit and drinks. Atlas showed up right after me, carrying a large tray in his hands, steel lids covering food beneath. I frown at the sight, "I can cook, you know?" I also enjoy it. I enjoy the heat and the smells. It's somewhat therapeutic. He stops at the table, sliding the large wooden tray onto it before glancing up at me, "No offense, darling, but I won't eat anything you ever cook again," Something in his eyes change. It isn't anger or caution, but it seems more like sadness.
My shoulders slump. I should have known that's what he would have said. I should have expected it. "I make one mistake," I murmur under my breath, u
