Eternal Echoes

19

Aria's POV 

Aria lay between Alessandro and Isabella, the warmth of their bodies still a comforting reminder of everything that had just unfolded. The air was thick with a heady mix of passion and calm, but as the silence settled in, something unexpected happened: her stomach growled—loudly. Like, seriously loud.

All three of them froze. Aria's eyes widened in horror, Alessandro blinked, and Isabella, graceful and composed as always, tried to stifle a giggle. But it was too late.

A laugh escaped from Isabella's lips, and soon, she was laughing uncontrollably. Alessandro, initially keeping a straight face, finally gave in too, his deep chuckle filling the room. Aria groaned, hiding her face under a pillow. "Of all the moments," she muttered, voice muffled.

"Hey, we can't blame you," Alessandro said, still trying to catch his breath. "I mean, we did just burn a lot of calories."

Aria peeked out from under the pillow, her face still flushed. "Okay, fine. But maybe I'll just crawl into the floor and disappear forever."

Isabella wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter finally dying down. "Oh no, you're not getting out of this that easily. Besides, now I'm starving too." She sat up, throwing a glance at Alessandro. "So, who's cooking?"

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "You're looking at me?"

"You're the one who said we burned calories. Sounds like you're responsible for replenishing them," Isabella quipped, grinning as she leaned back on her elbows.

Aria smirked, finally relaxing a bit. "Yeah, Alessandro, I thought a man of your intensity could handle a little post-passion kitchen duty."

Alessandro sighed dramatically, rolling out of bed with exaggerated slowness, like a man about to embark on the world's most dangerous mission. "Fine, but I'm warning you now, my culinary skills are...limited."

"Oh, don't worry, Chef Boyardee, I'll supervise," Isabella said, following him with a playful slap on his rear as he shuffled toward the kitchen.

Aria snickered, throwing on one of Alessandro's oversized shirts before joining them. The kitchen was a mess of half-empty wine bottles and snack wrappers from earlier in the night, but Alessandro stood confidently by the stove as if preparing for battle.

"What's the specialty tonight?" Aria asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

"Well," Alessandro began, pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge, "it's either an omelet or...scrambled eggs. Depending on how things go."

"Oh, a man of many talents," Isabella teased, hopping onto the counter and watching him crack eggs like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. "What happened to that fiery passion, huh? Is it only for Aria and me, or can you bring some of that energy to an egg?"

Aria burst out laughing as Alessandro fumbled with one of the eggs, dropping it on the floor. "Apparently, that fire dies as soon as he touches a frying pan."

"I don't need this kind of judgment," Alessandro muttered, grabbing a spatula with determination.

As the three of them worked together in the kitchen—Alessandro failing spectacularly at cooking while Aria and Isabella offered "helpful" advice between giggles—the mood lightened considerably. Any lingering tension from their earlier emotional conversation dissolved into playful banter.

Finally, after what could only be described as a kitchen catastrophe, they sat down to a somewhat questionable-looking plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and a mix of fruit that Alessandro had thrown together as a last-ditch attempt to redeem himself.