Alaric swallowed his anger just as it was about to burst out. Forget it, arguing with Hertha was pointless. Winning the argument meant she might leave, and he'd be left all alone. Losing meant he could at least enjoy the meals she cooked.

"Why would I drive you away? I'm exhausted. I'm going to lie down for a bit. Call me when dinner's ready," Alaric said, his tone now casual as he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Hertha rolled her eyes at his retreating back and got back to her tasks.

Sitting on the couch, Alaric's stomach was growling louder than a bear. Including today, it had been two whole days since he last ate. A weaker person would have caved by now. The fact that he was still holding on was nothing short of a miracle.

Leaning back on the couch, the sounds of pots and pans clinking in the kitchen reached his ears. Alaric found himself glancing towards the kitchen out of habit. There was Hertha, bustling about, flipping something in a skillet one moment and washing vegetables in the sink the next.

A smile tugged at Alaric's lips. Who knew she was capable of multitasking like that?

As he watched, he pulled a blanket over himself, feeling a chill. Whether it was from hunger or the remnants of his illness, he couldn't tell.

The blanket fluttered, bringing with it a breeze scented with the fragrance of soap. Alaric stiffened for a moment, then pulled the blanket closer to his nose, inhaling deeply. The scent grew clearer, richer.

reminder of three years past. Whenever he felt lost, in pain, or terribly alone in the dead

Alaric greedily inhaled, basking in

emerged with a dish in

fox-like eyes

to

clutching the blanket to his face.

absent-minded, his focus still

yet he seemed more attached to the blanket than to her presence, longing for past moments

ready. Don't let it get cold," Hertha said,

Worried about upsetting Hertha,

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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