“Got any ingredients in the fridge? I could whip up something."

She brushed the rose petals, a gentle smile on her face.

"So you're here as my chef now?"

Returning her smile, Mark made his way to the kitchen.

The hum of the fridge broke the silence.

"I wanted to share a meal, but since you had other plans, I thought I'd join you here."

Cecilia chuckled. She wasn't exactly a star in the kitchen.

Her fridge was well-stocked though, thanks to diligent house staff.

She heard the rustle of ingredients.

Before she fully realized it, she found herself wrapping her arms around Mark, surprising even him.

Cecilia whispered softly from behind him, “Forgive my impulsiveness.

Must be the wine talking."

Mark tried to gauge her sincerity, pondering if she'd use the wine as an excuse came morning.

But the air between them felt delicate; neither wanted to ruin the mood.

Considering their storied history-from a disrupted wedding to his illness, and finally to his return-they hadn't truly found solitude together. It seemed almost poetic that their private reunion would be in her apartment.

But they were grown-ups now, understanding that not everything needed to be laid bare.

With Cecilia murmuring occasional sweet nothings, Mark prepared a modest but thoughtful meal.

Three dishes, each thoughtfully crafted. As they sat down, she sipped on the wine he'd brought, her cheeks tinting a rosy hue.

After their dinner, Mark led her to the bedroom, her protests absent.

Tonight marked their first intimate encounter at her place.