The small dining room of the inn was filled with warmth.
The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting golden light over the wooden walls.
The table was crowded with plates and bowls, their steam carrying the scent of herbs, stewed meat, and fresh vegetables.
Everyone sat together in the little room, and for a moment, It felt like they were a big family.
Lillia sat on Azel's lap, spoon clutched in her small hand, though more of the food had ended up on her chin than in her mouth.
Azel, patient as ever, guided her movements, showing her how to scoop, how to tilt the spoon without spilling, how to bring it carefully to her lips.
"There," he murmured, steadying her tiny hand. "Not too much at once."
Lillia puffed her cheeks as she swallowed. "Papa, it's hard."
"You'll get it."
His smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Next bite, slower."
Edna watched them from across the table, her own spoon paused mid-air.
There was no mistaking it — her chest warmed at the sight.
