The fire had settled into a steady, comforting crackle, its golden glow painting shifting shadows across the grass and the faces of everyone huddled near it. We'd been sitting in companionable—if heavy—silence for a while, the night pressing in around us like a thick blanket.
Then it came: a low, unmistakable gurgling rumble from Mira's stomach. It cut through the quiet like an unwelcome guest.
Mira's hands flew to her midsection, pressing hard as if she could silence it by sheer willpower. Her cheeks flushed deeper than the firelight could account for—fresh embarrassment blooming across her features.
She ducked her head, dark hair falling forward like a curtain.
I caught her eye and let a small, easy smile curve my lips. No judgment. Just warmth.
"Hungry?" I asked softly.
She nodded once, tiny and reluctant, not meeting my gaze.
