Eric's voice, a soft and happy murmur, broke Delia from her reverie. "You are eating more than you did before," he said, flashing her a warm, encouraging smile. "I'm happy to see that."
Delia looked down at her plate in surprise. He was right. She had eaten more than half of the generous portion he had served her, and she didn't feel the familiar, sickening urge to throw it all up. A small, genuine smile touched her own lips. "I think so," she agreed.
They finished their meal in a comfortable silence. As had become his habit, Eric finished the small amount of food she had left on her plate, a simple, domestic gesture that felt more intimate than any grand declaration.
When they were done, they walked up the grand staircase together. He stopped in front of her door and pulled her into a soft, brief hug. "Goodnight, Delia," he whispered into her hair.
