"Have a seat. I'll see what's in the fridge and make something simple," Qingxiao said softly, turning his head.
Shoko murmured an assent and walked slowly over to sit at the table, her back relaxing slightly.
Qingxiao turned and opened the fridge, lowering his head to select ingredients with quick, practiced movements. The fridge held plenty of fresh ingredients he had deliberately stocked for everyday use-wholesome, light fare that was just right for a late-night meal.
In the quiet room, his senses grew especially sharp. He could clearly hear every faint scrape as the person behind him shifted her chair, every soft breath.
Just being here quietly in the same space as her was enough to put me at ease. Qingxiao suppressed the flutter in his heart and focused on the task at hand.
Warm light fell over Qingxiao as he deftly washed the vegetables, drained them, and chopped the ingredients. The blade struck the cutting board with soft, steady taps that filled the still room.
His movements were practiced, without a trace of fluster, though the tips of his ears quietly grew warm. What was ordinarily the most unremarkable daily routine now stirred ripples within him because of the person sitting behind him.
Shoko sat at the table, her elbows resting lightly on its surface, quietly watching his busy figure.
The boy's shoulders and back were straight and well-defined. He had rolled his sleeves up a little, exposing his lean forearms.
Warm steam rose slowly through the kitchen, and the faint, fresh scent of the ingredients spread. There were no elaborate, complicated preparations, yet it was full of the warmth of everyday life.
Watching his deft, orderly movements, Shoko quietly found a thought forming in her heart.
Most of the time, Qingxiao was the one looking after her comfort.