He loves her food
1124 Words
Anna had finished placing the dumplings into the stew which exuded a rich aroma. The blend of spices and meat fragrance was just right and the color of the food was beautifully appetizing, far superior from those she had seen eaten in restaurants earlier in the day.
Lily sat at the wooden table, swinging her legs and watching with wide, excited eyes. “It smells so good, Ana! Is this for the prince too?”
Anna smiled softly as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, Lily. He needs good, nourishing food to get stronger.”
From the doorway, Mrs. Thompson peeked in, carrying a stack of clean bowls. “My goodness, Anna, that smells heavenly. You really have your mother’s touch. The whole alley is going to be jealous tonight.”
Anna laughed lightly. “I hope so. I want everyone to know what’s coming when my restaurant opens. This is just practice.”
She ladled generous portions of the rich stew into bowls, making sure each had plenty of tender chicken, vegetables, and two fluffy dumplings on top.
One bowl she set aside with extra care, which was a slightly milder version with more broth for the man she knew as Viktor, in case his stomach was still sensitive after coughing up blood the other day.
She placed her younger sister’s bowl on the table for her to eat first, then carried the special bowl herself toward the next door.
When steady, yet light footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs connecting the loft to the ground floor, Viktor opened his eyes.
A moment later, the woman’s voice came from outside the door. “Are you awake?”
Vito replied, “The door is open.”
His voice was still hoarse but much better than yesterday.
Anna pushed the door open with her elbow, balancing an oil lamp in one hand and a steaming bowl of chicken stew with dumplings in the other.
“I brought you some dinner,” Anna said softly, offering the bowl with a small smile. “It’s chicken stew with dumplings. It should help you regain your strength. My mother used to make this whenever someone in the family was feeling poorly.”
She set the bowl down carefully on the small table beside the bed, along with a spoon and a glass of fresh water.
The rich, savory aroma quickly filled the room.
Vito stared at the steaming bowl for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
The smell was intense enough to make his stomach tighten with hunger.
He had expected plain broth or something simple, not this rich, homemade meal that smelled like it belonged in a proper home rather than a remote village.
Still, food had never meant much to him. He only ever allowed one person to cook for him, and even then he barely ate.
He preferred cigarettes and strong liquor, things he already knew would be almost impossible to find in such a village.
Anna studied his face quietly. Though he was still pale, his complexion looked slightly better than yesterday.
She had also already grown used to his quiet, guarded nature.
She placed the oil lamp on the table and added gently, “I’m planning to open a small restaurant in town soon, so I’d really like to know what you think.”
Vito stared at her bright blue smiling eyes that looked like stars, sparkling with genuine kindness and hope. For some reason, he didn’t want that light to disappear.
This woman saved his life afterall. What was there to be guarded about?
For the first time since waking up in this strange place, something flickered in his cold green eyes, a mix of surprise and reluctant curiosity.
Anna waited patiently, hoping he would accept it without pushing her away again.
To her surprise, Vito gave a small nod. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
He accepted the bowl, picked up the spoon, and began to eat.
The first bite was cautious, almost reluctant.
The moment the stew touched his tongue, his eyes widened slightly.
It was… incredibly good.
The chicken was tender and flavorful, falling apart easily. The broth was rich and savory, with a deep, comforting depth from slow-simmered vegetables and herbs.
The fluffy dumplings practically melted in his mouth, soft on the inside, with a light, buttery texture and a subtle hint of fresh parsley and black pepper that cut through the richness perfectly.
Every spoonful carried a perfect balance of warmth, salt, and subtle sweetness from the carrots and onions.
It was hearty without being heavy, nourishing in a way that seemed to reach deep into his tired body.
Nothing like the bland, over-salted meals he was used to in Vesper City’s high-end restaurants or the tasteless rations he had survived on during rough times.
This was simple, honest, home-cooked food made with care rather than skill for show.
He hadn’t realized how hungry he truly was until the warmth spread through his chest and stomach. For a few moments, he forgot to maintain his usual cold mask.
He ate steadily, almost mechanically at first, then with focus. The second dumpling disappeared quickly, followed by another spoonful of broth.
Anna watched him silently from the side of the bed, her hands clasped in front of her.
Vito paused after several bites, staring down at the bowl as if it had personally betrayed him.
This village girl’s cooking was dangerously good.
In his world, good food was either a luxury used to impress or a tool for manipulation.
But this… this tasted like care. Like someone had actually wanted him to feel better.
He took another spoonful, slower this time, savoring the way the herbs lingered on his tongue.
“It’s… good,” he finally muttered, his voice low and rough, almost reluctant to admit it. He didn’t look up at her. “Better than I expected.”
Anna’s face lit up with a genuine, relieved smile. “I’m glad. Eat as much as you can. There’s more if you want seconds.”
She stayed for a moment longer, watching him continue to eat, before quietly excusing herself to give him privacy.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Vito lowered the spoon for a brief second. His green eyes flicked toward the closed door, a strange, unfamiliar feeling stirring in his chest.
In Vesper City, no one cooked for him like this without expecting something in return.
Here, in this tiny, remote town, a girl he didn’t even know had brought him a bowl of stew that tasted like home, something he hadn’t felt in years.
He shook the thought away, forcing his expression back to its usual cold indifference, and continued eating.
- Writer
