Zyran had already, without a second thought, used his powers to take the bite out of the bread's heat before Isabella's hands even reached for it. He didn't do it to show off—there was nothing flashy about the gesture. He just… couldn't stand the idea of her burning herself. The thought alone felt wrong, like something in him wouldn't let it happen.
He didn't say anything, of course. No grand announcement, no smug little quip. Just quiet action, the kind that slipped under the radar. Let her think it was luck or timing or whatever else. He didn't need the credit. He just needed to know she was fine.
