The smell hit her first—warm, familiar, comforting. Anna blinked her eyes open slowly, still wrapped in the haze of sleep. The soft aroma of breakfast drifted through the air, tugging at something inside her. It was her favorite dish. She didn't even have to ask—Tom had made it.
She stirred gently beneath the sheets, her body heavy, her mind still waking. For a second, she let herself just feel it—the quietness, the warmth, the small gesture. There was something oddly grounding about it.
Eventually, she shuffled toward the table, her steps slow, almost hesitant. She sat down, not quite meeting Tom's gaze, not ready to read into anything yet.
Tom sat across from her, legs crossed, phone loosely in hand. He wasn't looking at her with expectation or worry—just calm. Like he wasn't trying to force the moment, wasn't trying to make her talk. He just let her be. And that, somehow, made her more aware of him.
Still, there was something in the air—subtle, unspoken. A quiet tension she couldn't quite place. Anna felt a little self-conscious under his gaze, even if he wasn't staring. It was like he was waiting, but for what, she wasn't sure. She pushed the thought aside and reached for the plate in front of her.
The first bite caught her off guard.
It tasted like memory—familiar, safe. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth before she could stop it, small but real. For a fleeting second, she just let herself enjoy the simple comfort of the food.
Tom noticed. He always did.
He didn't say anything, but a smirk tugged at his lips, subtle and soft. His eyes glinted as he watched her, like he was quietly celebrating something. That smile—so small, so unconscious—was enough for him. It reminded him of the girl he used to know. The version of her that laughed in the mornings and stole bites off his plate. The version of her he'd been missing.
Anna didn't see the smirk. She was too caught up in the warmth of the food, the way it made her feel like she was a little less lost. But Tom saw her—really saw her. Not just the version she was now, but the parts of her that were still there, tucked beneath the surface. And in that quiet morning light, it was enough.
For both of them.