The dining room felt thick with unspoken tension. Lokie sat at the table with one leg propped casually on the chair, slowly sipping soup from her bowl while shooting dagger-like glares across the room at Enzo.
Enzo sat stiffly on the couch, pretending to focus anywhere but on her. Yet every time she lifted the spoon to her lips, he swallowed hard, throat working visibly.
He bit down on his lower lip, straightened his spine, and cleared his throat, fighting the urge to lunge forward and snatch the food.
A gentle knock broke the silence. The door opened, and Bryan stepped in carrying a bag.
Enzo let out a small, audible sigh of relief. Bryan didn’t need instructions. He moved straight into the kitchen, unpacked the food onto a plate, and brought it to the dining table.
“Food is served,
