Hermelyn fixed the loose strands of her hair falling over her face, and finally unzipped the tent.
And there he was,
Aldrich was standing next to a small portable stove, barefoot and with his sleeves rolled. The air was filled with the sweet scent of a banana dipped in caramelized sugar as steam rose from a pot.
Aldrich didn’t notice her yet. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if he wanted everything to be perfect, the hot soup simmering slowly, the banana que turning golden on a stick. On the foldable table, he had already prepared two plates, and two cups. A small thermos of hot water stood ready beside a sachet of coffee.
Hermelyn smiled. That's because of the sight was simple, but it felt like a whole world. A man who woke up early, not to run away from his thoughts, but to cook
