[CASSIE]
The kitchen smells like rosemary and garlic. Meat sizzles on the stove, the sound melting into the soft music playing in the background, wrapping me in a feeling of nostalgia.
Beside me, Rhys is rolling up his sleeves, his hands steady as he dices an onion with practiced precision. It’s a simple thing he’s doing, and yet it makes me pause and stare. Nothing is more irresistible than seeing the man you love lost in the rhythm of cooking. Shaking my head, I reach for the basil, tearing the leaves with my fingers instead of chopping them, just the way I always have.
Just the way we used to.
“You’re still terrible at cutting onions,” I remark, watching him from the corner of my eye.
Rhys doesn’t look up. “And you still don’t use a knife for basil like a normal person.”
I smirk.
