HIS EVENING STAR

Chapter VI

Nameless One

The clatter of a heavy bowl on the table startled me, causing an involuntary flinch. If Elijah noticed my reaction, he gave no indication. I watched as he slid the bowl towards me, its contents releasing an enticing aroma that made my mouth water. Alongside it, he placed a plate with two slices of toasted bread.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a warm glow. It was unlike me to rise so late but considering my recent illness and the tumultuous night I'd had, I didn't dare question it.

The soft thud of a cup being set down completed the meal before me. I blinked in astonishment at the abundance of food.

How can one person consume so much? I wondered, my eyes widening. I couldn't possibly finish all of this.

Lifting my gaze, I found Elijah already at the counter, tidying up the cooking area. I glanced back at the table, then to him again.

Isn't he going to eat?

The scene before me felt surreal—him cooking and cleaning for me. While it made sense given my weakened state, the sight still unsettled me. In my experience, such acts of kindness always came with a price.

A troubling thought crept into my mind. Does he... Does he expect me to repay him with... pleasure once I've recovered?

As if he'd heard my unspoken fears, Elijah turned to look at me. I froze under his gaze, my hands remaining still in my lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone tinged with impatience.

I furrowed my brows, confusion evident on my face.

"Why aren't you eating?"

I looked down at the meal before me—a large bowl (large to me, though likely a normal portion for most) of what appeared to be chicken curry, two slices of toasted bread, and a cup of water. "This is..." I ventured cautiously, "all for me?"

He tossed the cleaning cloth onto the counter, his eyes narrowing. "I don't see any other ailing individuals around here."

I winced at the sharp edge in his words.

"Eat," he commanded.

"I-I can't finish all of this," I protested weakly.

"That's not my concern."

"But—"

"You either eat what you can, or I'll dispose of it," his tone hardened, brooking no further argument.

I shrank back at the threat and slowly began to eat as instructed. A quiet hum of satisfaction escaped me at the first bite, the combination of toasted bread and flavorful curry bringing a rare moment of culinary bliss.

Glancing up, I caught him watching me, his expression still stern but perhaps a shade softer. He offered a curt nod in response to my questioning look, and I exhaled softly in relief.

The next few minutes passed in silence as I savored the meal, taking small, careful bites. By the time I'd finished one slice of bread and about a quarter of the curry, I already felt uncomfortably full.

A bout of coughing interrupted my meal, forcing me to cover my mouth hastily. I reached for the water, taking a sip to soothe my irritated throat. A few more coughs followed, reminding me of the lingering effects of my cold.

As if on cue, Elijah placed another small bowl beside my meal. I looked up at him, surprise evident in my eyes.

"Drink this," he said, nudging the bowl closer. "It's a medicinal tea I've prepared. It should alleviate your cough and other symptoms."