Issahil

The dining room was lit with the warm glow of the fireplace and the antique lamps stationed at respective corners of the room, illuminating the faces of all of us in the room. 

The scent of roasted vegetables and perfectly seared meat was in the air, mingling with the sound of clinking cutlery and light conversation.

“Here,” Matthias passed me my plate of food. He was sitting right beside me and he'd been helping me cut my meat into small pieces so I could easily it… even though I could very well do it. 

At times like this, his sweet gestures made my heart flutter anew for him.

Nica...