A Love Restored

Chapter 83

I set the table for us. I set the kitchen island, rather. The pan with the frittata. Cut up fruits. Butter. Jam. Toast. A croissant from yesterday. A plate of sausages. I wanted us to feast, together.

When Felix arrived, his hair were wet, and he was wearing a nicer pair of grey sweats and a t shirt. I tried very hard not to look, but we all know what grey sweats do to a woman…

“Eyes up here, Flora.” Felix commented, smirking at me. My eyes flew up to his. My cheeks warmed, filling with blood at the embarrassment.

“Um, breakfast is served”

The smirk didn’t leave his face. “It smells great.”

I nodded, locking down at the floor. He took a seat, then looked at me expectantly. I joined him, struggling a little to sit down on the high stool. He looked amused as he watched me.

I reached out to serve him, but he stopped me, “Let me.” He said softly. I sat back, and he served us both a slice of the frittata, some fruits, and toast. He buttered half of mine, and put jam on the other half. My heart warmed at the sweet gesture. He remembered these tiny details.

I dug into the frittata, the fluffy egg pie was warm and hearty,

As I devoured the fluffy goodness, Felix watched with an adoration that warmed me from the inside out. “You haven’t lost your touch, you know,” he said, spearing a mango slice with his fork. This is even better than I remember.”

“Only because you’re a terrible flatterer,” I teased, my mouth full “Remember that time you told me my burnt toast was charred to perfection? You almost gave me heartburn with your lies.”

He laughed, a low rumble that vibrated through the bed. “Hey, don’t judge my attempts at being supportive. Besides, that toast wasn’t that bad.”

I snorted. “Right, and pigs can fly,

He smiled, “Don’t put yourself down, Flora. You’ve always been a good cook. You know that.”

I giggled. The compliment filled me with a sudden lightness. “Thanks. I try”

He shoved a forkfal of the eggs into his mouth. “I think I missed your food more than 1 missed you, you know.”

The joke went unnoticed, because I could only concentrate on the last few words. “You missed me?”

He stared at me incredulously, both his eyebrows raised in question. “Terribly,” he finally answered, “Why would you even ask that?”

I shrugged, “It’s just nice to hear.”

We bickered playfully, the years melting away as we relived past mishaps and culinary triumphs. But amidst the laughter, there was a tenderness, a silent understanding that ran deeper than words. In the way he lingered over his second cup of coffee, a new brew, savoring each sip, and the way his gaze lingered on my profile as I spooned up the pomegranate seeds on my plate, I felt a closeness I hadn’t dared to hope for.

He leaned in, the morning light catching the flecks of silver in his hair, and brushed a kiss against my cheek. It was a fleeting touch, barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine, a spark of desire that had been lying dormant for too long.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice husky with emotion. For remembering, for this… everything

“Remembering what?”

“How I like my toast.” I said, but I meant so much more.

Felix shook his head. “I’m sorry I made you feel so unwanted,” he said, “I never meant to.”

“It was…a confusing situation. I understand.”

He leaned in, his eyes shining. “You’re still the same. So Innocent. Too sweet for this world.”

15

Chapter B

I cocked

my

head to the side, “I don’t think so. I’ve grown. I’ve been through a lot of shit, you know.” He winced at the curse. “Don’t swear, Flora.”

I pursed my lips, trying to contain my laugh. He made a face. “The cursing. The drinking. Not to mention the smoking,” he said, “I guess you really have grown up.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

two parts. “Did you bake this?”

Felix reached for the croissant. He looked at me, and carefully tore it into tw

I shook my head, “Linda got it from a bakery. Its good, no?”

“Yeah, quite.”

He put one half of the croissant on my plate, “I haven’t had a croissant in ages.” I murmured, looking excitedly at the pastry, its layers begging to be dissolved in my mouth.

y fingers brushed his as we reached for the jam, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. A shiver ran down my spine, a secret language whispered only In the meeting of our skin.

He caught my gaze, his eyes pools of melted chocolate, and a slow smile spread across his face. It was a smile that had the power to melt glaciers and rewrite constellations. “You have something on your cheek,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent goosebumps dancing across my skin.

I reached up, self–consciously brushing at my face, but he stopped me, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek. His touch was a whisper, a butterfly landing on a flower, and my breath caught in my throat,

“No,” he said, his eyes searching mine, “it’s just… sunlight.” I rolled my eyes. “How corny, Felix.

He just laughed, and the sound of mirth filled the room with sunlight. He was sunlight, in reality. The light of my life. The very radiance in the dark of the world.

Felix took my plate. He generously buttered my croissant, then gave the plate back to me. He pushed his mug of coffee toward me. “Dip and eat,” he instructed. I did so, and it tasted heavenly. I almost let out a moan.

“This is…so good.”

By the time I had finished my croissant, he hadn’t even touched his. He was just staring at me.

He reached for the half of the croissant on his plate, its layers delicate as butterfly wings, and broke off a small piece. His gaze caught mine.

“Open,” he ordered.

Before I knew what was happening, he brought the piece to my lips, his fingers brushing my cheek in a whisper of touch. The air crackled with a new kind of electricity, a current humming under my skin. Time seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his hand and the unspoken promise in his

다다.

Hesitantly, I opened my mouth, and he gently pressed the croissant inside. The taste was an explosion of buttery delight, each bite a tiny symphony on my tongue, the real sweetness came from the intimacy of the moment, the way his eyes watched me, the way his thumb lingered on my cheek as he fed me each delicate morsel.

Each bite was a brushstroke in a new painting, one filled with unspoken desires and hesitant hopes. With each crumb that fell, the air grew thicker with an unspoken language.

Bite by bite, he fed me. He tore off small pieces with his hands, and fed me each morsel, watching me as a chewed.

When the last piece was gone, he brushed a stray crumb from my lips, his thumb lingering there for a tantalizing moment. His eyes, pools of melted chocolate, searched mine, and I felt the blush rise to my cheeks. The silence, once comfortable, now vibrated with unspoken words.

He leaned in, a slow, deliberate movement that sent butterflies erupting in my stomach. His breath mingled with mine, warm and fragrant, and for a moment, my world froze on its axis.

“Was that good?”

My breath was caught in my throat, “Yes,” I gasped, “Really good.”

He leaned in, and I thought, God, Felix just kiss me already. But he didn’t do that. He leaned in, and with a quick swipe of his tongue, brushed a crumb jast below my lip. I almost combusted into flames.

His lips lingered for a moment, a feather–light almost kiss that promised a thousand more to come.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice rough with barely contained emotion.

I nodded, unable to speak. My heart, a bird trapped in a cage, was beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. He turned to leave, but then stopped, looking back at me with a smile that could light up the universe.

“And Flora,” he said, his voice a husky whisper, “don’t worry. I’ll bring more croissants tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“We should eat dinner, together, too.” He suggested. I was too in over my head to respond. The butterflies in my stomach had made me dizzy. I could just sit there transfixed, and stare at him.

“Don’t cook,” he ordered. “We’ll get takeout. I’m feeling like Chinese.”

“Okay.” I whispered, “I can make Chinese, if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it, flower.”

I nodded, and he walked away. I watched his back as he moved further and further way, until he was finally out of sight. I squealed in the empty kitchen, the sound was so loud, any passerby would think I was a crazy woman. But I was so full of glee and so happy, I couldn’t wait for tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. I couldn’t wait to see my Felix again.

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Valeri Burnet Laulatta

just here to remind you his eyes are emerald green

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