𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫 | ✎

iii.

RESTING MY BACK against the wall of my shower, I let the cold water slide down my body as I watch the water droplets race down it and drop unto the tiled floor.

I turn off the tap, open the glass door, and grab the towel that was hanging on the rack beside it. I wrap the towel around my waist, making sure it was secure before grabbing a smaller towel to clean my face and hair. 

Walking out of my bathroom, I enter inside my bedroom and head straight to my closet choosing the first black loose short sleeve t-shirt and matching black joggers that I see.

Picking up the towels that laid recklessly on the floor, I put them inside the hamper, switched off the lights and walked out. I grabbed my phone off of the nightstand, and as I was about to enter my bed and get comfortable, I hear a soft knock coming from my room door, faint giggles being accompanied with it.

I let out a loud huff and strolled over to the door. Swinging it open, I looked down to see a now clean Daphne squeezing her stuffed bunny to her chest. A cute smile on her little face.

"Dean!" she giggled as she ran to hug me, but only hugging my legs because of her short stature.

Looking up at me she spoke. "Mama said that you should come and help her in the kitchen."

"She did?"

"Yes," she said while nodding her head.

"Thanks, Daph," I smiled while going down on my knee and tickling her sides as she starts to laugh. Her innocent doe eyes making her look so damn cute. 

She quickly removes herself from my grasps and runs off to the direction of her playroom. The ghost of her giggles the only thing remaining.

I sauntered down the stairs, down the foyer, and into the kitchen. The smell of food hitting me in an instant as I breathe it in and then let out a sigh. 

If there was one thing I and my mom have in common; it would be food. We are both excellent chefs or cooks, whichever one. I am pretty sure I got it from her. My dad can't even toast bread without it coming out as black as charcoal, talk less of making a full-on meal.

I make my way into the kitchen. Making sure to greet our chef, Raphael, as he waves me off while rushing out of the kitchen door, cursing at someone in French on his phone. Scanning the kitchen, I notice my mum at the kitchen's stove. Hungrily, I walk towards her, eager to find out what on earth she was making that smelt so good.

I peak over her shoulder, and I see that she's making some kind of soup.

"It's chicken gnocchi soup," my mom indicated.

"Aww you made my favorite."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed as she continued to stir the pot. The aroma filling up the kitchen air. 

"Shit! I can't believe I forgot."

"Forgot what?" I asked.

"I forgot the carrots no no no. Ugh! And the soup's almost ready. Dean, stay here and watch it for me. I'll be right back."