The morning light spilled softly through the curtains, pale gold kissing the edges of the wooden floor. Alric stirred first, his hand instinctively seeking Nora's warm, bare form. But she was already gone, the space beside him cool. For a heartbeat, panic flickered in his chest—but then, the faintest sound of movement, soft humming, and the scent of something being chopped drifted in from the kitchen.
He smiled to himself.
Alric pulled on a pair of loose pants and padded barefoot across the stone floor, following the trail of warmth and something that smelled faintly of garlic and spice. He stopped at the doorway, resting a shoulder against the frame. There she was—his Nora—standing at the counter with her hair loosely tied, wearing one of his shirts that fell nearly to her knees. The sleeves swallowed her hands as she awkwardly tried to chop red peppers.
He chuckled quietly.
"You're going to slice your finger if you keep holding the knife like that."
