Mrs. Jones straightened slightly, her expression softening with a touch of understanding. "Ms. Angela is resting, sir," she said gently. "She seemed very tired, so I didn't want to disturb her. I thought it best to let her sleep."
Lyan's brow furrowed, and he glanced again at the empty chair across from him. "I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "She should eat, though. Wake her up, please."
Mrs. Jones hesitated for a moment, studying Lyan's expression.
"Are you certain, sir? She seemed utterly exhausted."
"Yes," Lyan said firmly, though his voice softened slightly. "She hasn't eaten all day, has she? She'll need her strength."
With a nod, Mrs. Jones turned and made her way upstairs. She tapped lightly on Angela's door, careful not to startle her. "Ms. Angela?" she called gently, her voice just above a whisper.
Inside, Angela stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as she registered the soft knock and voice. For a moment, she felt disoriented, unsure of where she was. Then the events of the day rushed back to her.
"Come in," Angela said groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
Mrs. Jones stepped inside, her expression kind. "I'm sorry to wake you, dear, but Mr. Chandra insisted you come down for dinner. He's concerned you haven't eaten."
Angela blinked, surprised by the thoughtfulness behind the request. "Oh… I didn't realize I fell asleep," she murmured, glancing at the neatly folded towels and clothes from earlier.
"You were exhausted. It's understandable," Mrs. Jones replied with a reassuring smile. "Take your time to freshen up if you'd like. I'll let him know you're coming."
Angela nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Mrs. Jones."
As Mrs. Jones left the room to inform Lyan, Angela got up, smoothing her borrowed clothes and running a hand through her hair. Her heart felt unexpectedly light as she prepared to join him downstairs, the gesture of care from someone like Lyan leaving her both curious and grateful.
Lyan was sitting at the dining table, scrolling through his phone. He quickly set it down, the faint glow of the screen dimming as his gaze shifted to Angela.
"Welcome to my table. Thanks for joining me," he said. His usually composed demeanor faltered for a moment as he took in her appearance. The oversized sweater and sweatpants hung loosely on her frame, but there was a softness about her that caught him off guard. Despite the simple attire, she carried herself with a quiet grace that made her seem almost radiant.
Angela hesitated at the foot of the stairs, her fingers brushing a strand of damp hair away from her face. "I'm sorry I fell asleep," she said, her voice apologetic but warm. "And thank you for… everything."
Lyan stood, gesturing toward the chair across from him. "No need to apologize. You needed the rest," he replied, his tone more relaxed than usual. "Come, sit. You should eat while it's still warm."
Angela moved toward the table, the faint clinking of dishes the only sound as she settled into the chair. The scent of the food wafted up to her, and her stomach reminded her just how long it had been since her last meal.
Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the overwhelming amount of food spread across the table. Platters of roasted vegetables, bowls of steaming soup, freshly baked bread, rice, and even a plate of delicately arranged desserts filled the space. It was more than she had expected—far more than two people could possibly eat in one sitting.
She glanced at Lyan, who had already picked up his utensils and begun to serve himself with calm precision. Noticing her hesitation, he raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"
Angela hesitated, unsure of how to voice her thoughts without sounding ungrateful. "It's just… there's so much food," she said, her voice trailing off. "Are we… are we going to eat all of this?"
Lyan let out a soft chuckle, a rare sound that momentarily lightened the air between them. "We don't have to finish it all. Just eat what you can."
Angela smiled at his response, the tension in her shoulders easing a bit. "Alright," she said softly, reaching for a plate. She served herself a modest portion of roasted vegetables and a slice of bread, still feeling a little out of place amid the lavish spread.
As she took her first bite, the flavors surprised her—rich, warm, and comforting. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until now. She glanced at Lyan, who was eating with quiet composure, his focus seemingly on the plate in front of him.
"Do you always have this much food prepared?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity.
Lyan paused, his fork hovering for a moment before he set it down. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
Angela hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly. She hadn't expected such a straightforward response. "It's just... a lot for one person," she said with a small laugh, glancing again at the array of dishes on the table. "It feels like a feast."
Lyan gave a faint smile, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Well, it's always been like this." He looked directly at her. "Can I ask you a question?"
Angela blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in the conversation. She set her fork down carefully, her curiosity piqued. "Of course," she said, her tone cautious but open.
Lyan leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful as he rested his elbows on the table, fingers loosely clasped. "Why were you out in the rain? Who were you running from?" His gaze was steady but not probing, as if he genuinely wanted to understand.
Angela's breath hitched for a moment, the question cutting closer than she had anticipated. She looked down at her plate, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. The vulnerability in sharing her story felt daunting.
"I..." she began hesitantly, her voice low. "I didn't have anywhere else to go." She paused, her eyes lifting slightly to meet his. Her voice dropped again. "That's all for now."
A silence settled between them. Then she added, more softly, "Is this place really safe?"
Lyan's gaze didn't waver as he listened, his expression calm but attentive. He leaned back slightly in his chair, giving Angela the space to collect herself. "Yes," he said firmly, his voice steady. "This place is safe. You don't have to worry about that."
Angela nodded, though a trace of doubt lingered in her eyes. She studied his face, calmly asking herself if she should really trust the mysterious guy before her. It wasn't trust—not yet—but it was something close.
She drew in a slow breath, her fingers curling around the stem of her glass. "Can I ask you a favor?" she said quietly.