Lyra noticed the smell before anything else.

It was morning. Light filtered through the window, soft but bright enough to settle across the room. She stirred slightly, her brows pulling together as she tried to place it. The smell lingered—warm, savory, strong enough to cut through the quiet.

She stayed there for a moment with her eyes closed, letting it settle.

Then she recognized it.

Her eyes opened and she pushed herself up, the thought forming as the smell reached her again.

It was salmon.

She swung her legs off the bed and stood, heading toward the door without thinking much about it. The closer she got, the clearer it became. By the time her hand reached the handle, she didn’t need to guess anymore.

She opened it and paused for a second.

Yeah. Definitely.

Something about it lifted her mood a little, lighter than the night before. She turned back toward the room and went straight into the bathroom.

It didn’t take long.

A few minutes later, she stepped out again, hair still slightly damp, dressed in a loose sky blue shirt and white pants. The smell hadn’t faded. If anything, it had gotten stronger.

She headed for the kitchen, her steps quick at first before slowing as she got closer. By the time she reached the door, she had already settled herself enough to push it open without hesitation.

Ren paused when he saw her.

He stood by the stove in a graphic t-shirt and black shorts, an apron tied loosely around his waist. A pan sat in front of him with four pieces of salmon sizzling in oil. He glanced at her, then back at the pan.

“Good morning.”

“Hey… good morning,” he replied, adjusting the heat slightly.

She stepped further in, her attention drifting toward the pan.

“What are you cooking?”

“Trying to cook salmon.”

“You can cook?”

“Barely,” he said, flipping one of the pieces, “but I figured I should try.”

“Why?”

He tilted the pan slightly, checking the underside before answering.

“It’s been a few days. The salmon’s still in the icebox. Didn’t want to risk the rest.”

She paused for a second.

Right.

“I forgot we couldn’t use the fridge,” she said. “I actually have a battery fridge in my room.”

Ren stopped and looked at her.

“A what?”

“A battery fridge. They exist. Just… expensive.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to the stove.

“…Right.”

He didn’t question it further.

“Go sit down,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

She stayed where she was.

“Can you not say it like that?” she said, her tone tightening slightly. “I’m not completely useless.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

He exhaled quietly, keeping his focus on the pan.

“I just meant you probably don’t do this kind of thing.”

“And what kind of thing is that?”

He hesitated.

“Cooking… and stuff.”

She looked at him for a second, then looked away.

“I’m a musician. Not royalty.”

“…Yeah.”

He didn’t push it further.

“You do the salmon,” she said after a moment. “I’ll make the sauce.”

He glanced at her.

“What kind of sauce?”

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t argue.

She stepped beside him and pulled a chopping board onto the counter. She grabbed an onion and a knife, her movements steady and deliberate.

Ren shifted slightly to give her space, though he still watched from the side.

“You seem… different today,” he said.

“No.”

She didn’t look up.

He nodded once and turned back to the pan.

She cut through the onion quickly, pushing the pieces into a bowl before reaching for whatever she could find—mayonnaise, chili sauce, ketchup. She added them without measuring, then cut a lemon and squeezed the juice in.

Ren glanced over again, quieter this time.

She mixed everything together and set the bowl aside.

“That’s my sauce.”

The salmon was ready. He plated it, placing two pieces on each plate before stepping back.

“I’m done.”

He glanced at the bowl.

“Would’ve worked better with fried chicken.”

“Sorry,” she said, her tone dipping slightly. “That’s all I know.”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “Really.”

They stood there for a moment.

“So… wanna eat?” he asked.

“Yes.”

They sat across from each other. Lyra picked up her fork and knife. Ren didn’t.

He watched her.

She noticed it, but didn’t say anything.

She cut into the salmon carefully and lifted a piece. Steam rose faintly as she brought it to her mouth.

Ren’s grip tightened slightly.

She took a bite and chewed.

He waited.

She didn’t react immediately. She just kept eating, her expression steady.

Then she took another bite.

Ren let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and finally looked down at his own plate.

He started eating.

…

“Thank you for the food, Ren. It was good.”

She wiped her mouth lightly and stood.

He had already turned toward the sink, rinsing his plate.

“No worries.”

She walked toward the door, slowing slightly as she reached it.

Ren noticed, even without turning.

“Dinner,” she said, her voice carrying just enough, “I cook. You eat.”

There was a slight change in her tone this time.

Then she left.

Ren stood there with the water still running over the plate in his hands. He didn’t move right away.

After a moment, he turned the tap off and set the plate down.

“…Right.”