The air carried the savory aroma of sizzling burgers and creamy pasta, mingling with the faint clink of cutlery and the low hum of conversation from nearby tables. We sat in a booth, the pile of shopping bags spilling over the couch beside us
Aeri leaned over her plate of chicken alfredo. Sara, across from us, dug into her Pasta, her energy undimmed despite her earlier complaints of tiredness.
I twirled my fork in my pasta, the creamy sauce clinging to the noodles, and took a bite, savoring the warmth. Aeri glanced at me, her eyes soft, her smile gentle. "You don't have work today, right?" she asked, cutting a piece of chicken, her voice light but curious.
"Nope, no clients today," I said, smiling back.
The truth was, Jonathan's silence meant a rare day off, and I was grateful for it after last night's madness.
