Daniella carried the warm bowl with both hands, her steps careful and measured as she moved toward the counter. The steam rose softly from the porridge, curling upward in delicate wisps. She climbed onto the stool and set the bowl down, staring at it for a moment. Her stomach tightened with hunger, but her appetite refused to return.
Her gaze drifted unconsciously toward the fridge again. That sharp craving for cold juice pressed at the back of her throat, irrational and persistent. She did not understand it and did not want to.
"Why do I feel like you have some kind of weird fetish?" she muttered under her breath, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice as she noticed Nicolas drawing closer. "Why are you watching me eat?"
Nicolas did not answer immediately. He leaned casually against the counter, one hand resting lazily on its surface while a servant quietly poured fresh coffee into his cup.
"Who knows," he said lightly. "Maybe I'm studying anatomy."
