The kitchen buzzed with morning clatter—pots, pans, and sleepy curses.
Kyan was flipping toast and stealing glances at the boiling eggs, his apron slightly crooked.
He mumbled to himself while slicing strawberries, "Was I too rude last night? I mean… maybe I should've shut up after the whole 'drunken mistake' thing. Ugh."
He groaned softly, head thudding lightly on the cupboard.
"God, I need a reset button."
"Hey, Softie!" the chief cook barked. "Stop daydreaming and go serve breakfast at the main table!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Kyan perked up quickly, snatching the silver tray like it was a golden trophy.
He balanced it perfectly—fresh omelettes, buttered toast, perfectly crisp bacon. He actually smiled, heading for the grand dining room.
The heavy doors parted and there sat Nico—already seated like royalty, legs spread lazily, one hand nursing a black coffee, the other scrolling through his phone.
Kyan's feet faltered just a little.
Because Nico looked up.
And smirked.
