Andrew and Sophia arrived in a small town. It was quiet and calm, far from the atmosphere of war and military life from which they came. The wooden houses were old, some with small gardens, others holding dry clothes that swayed in the breeze.
They headed to a beautiful wooden house, set apart from the others. It was simple but warm.
As they approached, Andrew noticed a folded letter lying in front of the door.
"Guess that's yours," he said, nodding toward it.
She picked it up and looked at it. "Looks like they sent it ahead of schedule."
Andrew walked in behind her, looking at the small space of her home. As expected, it was Sophia's style. The furniture was arranged, soft-colored blankets folded over the sofa. There were small personal touches everywhere, a few books stacked on a side table, a delicate hairbrush near the mirror, and on a shelf, something caught his eye.
A wooden carving of a bird. It was old, but carefully placed, as if it held special meaning.
Next to her is a dagger, not for battle, but for decoration, clearly an inherited item.
Andrew looked at her. "Living alone must be difficult."
She set the letter down, running a hand along the table as if the house itself gave her comfort. "It is," she admitted. "Sometimes, it's too quiet. But... it's just how things ended up."
She turned around the house, pulling out some things. "I need to get what I need before we leave."
Then She began gathering some clothes, some books, and other items, carefully placing them in her bag.
And suddenly, she looked at Andrew, smiling.
"Wait...I'll cook you something. " She said in a soft and cheerful voice.
Andrew blinked, then smiled. "Fine, I won't argue with that."
He leaned back in his chair, watching her tie her hair and move around the kitchen.
Soon the scent of a rich, warm perfume filled the house. A plate of roast lamb and spiced rice was placed before him, steam slowly rising from the table.
Andrew grabbed his fork and began to eat.
His expression changed immediately.
"Sophia," he said after a pause, looking straight at her. "I'm not even flattering you, but this is the best thing I've ever eaten."
Sophia, who was already red from the heat of cooking, turned even redder.
It was easy to see on her pale skin.
"You... really think so?" she asked, looking away for a moment.
Andrew nodded, taking another bite. "Yeah. This is the best thing I've ever had in my life." And it really was...
Sophia, clearly trying to hide how happy she was, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled.
"I am glad you like it," she replied.
After a moment, he leaned back. "Well, maybe I need you to cook more for me."
Sophia rolled her eyes, but the small smile didn't leave her face.
"I don't mind cooking for you," she admitted. "I'd actually be happy to. I really like cooking, but I always cook only for myself, so it's nice to cook for you too."
Andrew raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
She paused, taking a small breath before adding, "And if you want… on our off days, you can come over. I'll make you different meals. Let you try all kinds of food."
She kept her gaze down, almost like she was afraid to look at him.
Andrew's smile remained, but something in his chest tightened.
For just a second, he wasn't here. He wasn't in this quiet house, across from Sophia.
He was a child again, sitting at an old wooden table, watching his mother cook.
The warmth of the fire, the sound of her voice... Soft, kind.
She used to say things like that.
"I'll cook for you. I'll make you something new next time."
He could almost hear it.
The memory hit him all at once, so sudden, so strong, it nearly stole the breath from his lungs.
His vision blurred slightly, and before he could stop it, his eyes stung.
Sophia's voice pulled him back.
"An—Andrew?"
There was a shift in her tone concern.
Andrew quickly wiped his eyes. "I just remembered something…"
Sophia said while watching him carefully. "About your lost memory?"
Andrew nodding. "Yeah."
Sophia didn't say anything for a moment. She just waited. Then, she asked, "What was it?"
Andrew stared at his hands for a second before finally speaking.
"My mother," he said quietly.
Sophia's lips parted slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
Andrew exhaled. "I've told you that I lost my memories when I was young… but this… this one just came back. I could hear her. Saying those exact words. During the war, food was scarce, but she always made sure we ate well."
Sophia lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "Andrew…"
He looked up. "I didn't think I'd ever get any of it back."
Sophia hesitated before speaking, her voice softer than before. "You know Andrew, I am always here to listen to you… you can talk about anything on your mind with me."
Andrew met her eyes, then smiled. "Good to know that I have you..."
Sophia hesitated for a moment again, "If you ever remember more… tell me, ok?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "I'll keep that in mind."
Neither of them moved for a moment.
Then she suddenly turned around. "I... I have to clean up!"
Andrew watched her rush towards the dishes, then he stood up.
"You cooked, so I'll clean up," he said, standing beside her.
She frowned. "But...!"
"Fair deal here." he interrupted.
Sophia huffed but didn't argue. Then she sat on the chair looking at him, smiling...