"It tastes so amazing," Isabella said, completely deadpan.
The words dropped like pebbles in a silent pond—small, but enough to send ripples across the table.
For a full three seconds, no one moved. No one breathed. Every man at that table—yes, even Zyran—heard her voice and somehow processed it as: this bread is terrible.
Kian blinked slowly, as if double-checking his hearing. Cyrus's brow gave the faintest twitch, that rare sign that his brain was sprinting to catch up. Both men sat frozen in that quiet limbo of Oh no, she hates it, until—click—the realization finally sank in.
She'd said amazing.
The mental whiplash was almost comical. Kian's shoulders relaxed, but only halfway, while Cyrus expression smoothed back to its usual calm, though his eyes betrayed the flicker of really? was that necessary?.
