Dinnertime.
Stephanie had prepared a full meal at home.
Her cooking skills weren't the best, but she had picked up a few things from Monica the other day.
The colors of the dishes were quite appealing. Pleased with her work, she couldn't resist sneaking a couple of bites. Not bad, actually.
The faint scent of tobacco smoke drifted through the air. Stephanie paused. Sensing a pair of eyes on her, she quickly looked up.
It was Jonathan.
He was standing by the French windows, dressed in a black suit with the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened.
Jonathan stared at her, his voice cool. "Sneaking food behind my back?"
"..." Why did that sound so suggestive?
Stephanie replied matter-of-factly, "I made the food. What's wrong with me tasting it?"
She untied the floral apron around her waist and started bringing the dishes to the table. "I don't know your preferences, so even if you don't like it, you're not allowed to say so."
At that, Jonathan raised an eyebrow, his eyes following her, a hint of surprise in them. "You made this specifically for me?"
"Who else?"
The chill around Jonathan seemed to dissipate. He went to wash his hands and returned carrying the filled soup bowls.
Stephanie was pleased that he was proactive. At the very least, he would make a decent dining companion in the future.
Jonathan had a hearty appetite. Stephanie had been worried there would be leftovers, but in the blink of an eye, he had polished off everything, not leaving a single grain of rice.
Watching him devour his food, Stephanie felt a long-forgotten sense of validation. Maybe she had a hidden talent for cooking after all.
After dinner, Stephanie went to the restroom. When she came out, Jonathan was already in the kitchen, cleaning up.

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