"Do you still bake chocolates?"
Lola froze, staring at him with slightly wide eyes. She had just taken a brief trip down memory lane, hearing her younger, more enthusiastic voice shouting her heart out.
He remembered?
As if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell, Atlas scooped a spoonful of his soup.
"Enjoy it while it's warm," he said, guiding the spoon to his lips.
But Lola didn't move. Her mind went blank, her emotions at war—which would dominate first, shame or shock? Perhaps, both?
Slowly, a sense of shame crept into her heart at the thought of it.
When he glanced at her on his third scoop, she finally snapped out of it. Without a word, she picked up her spoon and took a sip. She tried not to think about it, but the memory bothered her.
That past moment was one of the many that made her cringe with embarrassment out of the blue. Knowing the person who rejected her still remembered it bothered her more than it should.
