They guided her deeper into the house, their laughter soft but lively as they moved in a tight group, almost as if they had known her for years. The warmth in the air shifted as they stepped into the dining area, and Clara's steps slowed on instinct.
The table was overwhelming.
It stretched long across the room, polished to a mirror shine, and every inch of it was filled. Plates upon plates of food were arranged with surprising care, steaming dishes of grilled meats glazed in rich sauces, bowls of creamy pastas, roasted vegetables glistening under a coat of oil, and neatly plated desserts sitting at the far end. The scent alone wrapped around her senses, rich, warm, and inviting, carrying a kind of homely comfort she had not felt in a long time.
Her lips parted slightly, her eyes moving from one dish to another.
"All this… for me?" she asked, her voice softer than before.
"Of course," Hazel replied with a gentle smile. "First impressions matter."
