𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞

7. Midnight noodles and mixed feelings

Arielle stirred awake in the middle of the night, her stomach growling. She hadn't eaten much during dinner, barely touching the food on her plate. The dining atmosphere was far too tense for her to enjoy anything. With all the servants standing around, watching her every movement, and the queen's sharp gaze fixed on her, every bite had felt like swallowing rocks.

Now, she was paying the price. She sighed, clutching her stomach. It wasn't like she could ring for a servant to bring her food-not after the strange looks she had already received earlier that evening. Besides, she was used to cooking for herself. As Su Mi, she had lived alone for so long that cooking had become second nature to her.

She quietly crept out of her room and made her way to the royal kitchen. It took her a while to navigate the palace halls, but when she finally found the kitchen, she set to work, rummaging through the ingredients to make something familiar. "Noodles," she murmured to herself. Simple, comforting, and quick.

The pot simmered softly as she added ingredients in the style she remembered from her previous life. She smiled at the sight, feeling a bit more at ease. Just as she was about to finish, she heard footsteps behind her.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned sharply, only to see Aiore standing in the doorway, his face unreadable.

"You?" she blurted out, genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He looked at her, his expression calm but his eyes slightly narrowed. "Hungry."

Arielle blinked. Of course, that's all he would say. Why did she expect anything more from this man of few words? "What do you mean 'hungry'? Couldn't you call a servant or something?"

Aiore shook his head briefly. "Didn't want to wake them."

"Can you cook?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, and he shook his head again.

Arielle crossed her arms, biting back her frustration. "Then why are you here in the kitchen if you don't even know how to cook?"

"For the leftovers," Aiore replied flatly, his tone void of embarrassment.

Her jaw dropped. "Leftovers? A crown prince eating leftovers?"

Aiore said nothing in response, but she saw a flicker of something in his eyes-maybe surprise that she was making such a big deal out of it. Arielle didn't know the half of what he had endured in his life, the times he had been treated far worse than having to eat cold scraps. But to her, it seemed unimaginable.

"Well, you don't have to eat leftovers," she muttered, turning her attention back to the stove. "I'll make some for you too. If you're ever hungry at night, just come find me. I'll cook for you."

Aiore's eyes darkened with confusion. He didn't respond, but for some reason, her words struck him oddly. It was unfamiliar-this feeling of being cared for, however small it was.

Arielle set a bowl of steaming noodles in front of him and smiled. "Here."

He picked up his utensils and was ready to take a bite, but she quickly stopped him. "Wait, it's still too hot. Let me help you."

She scooped some noodles onto a fork, blowing on them to cool them down, before holding it up to his lips. "Eat."

Aiore stared at the fork, his thoughts drifting to a distant memory-a blurry image of a woman, his mother, doing the same thing when he was very young. He blinked the thought away and leaned forward, letting Arielle feed him. She seemed pleased, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside his mind.

Arielle continued feeding him, neglecting her own hunger, but he noticed how cold her noodles must have gotten while she focused on him. Without saying a word, Aiore's sharp eyes glanced at her, but she smiled, reading his thoughts easily. "Don't worry. I can heat mine up again."

Aiore wanted to argue that he didn't need her to feed him, that he was perfectly capable of eating on his own, but there was a small, buried part of him that didn't mind this. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting.

After they finished eating, Aiore stood up, washed the bowls and put them aside. "Goodnight," he muttered, heading toward the door.

"Wait," Arielle called, standing up hurriedly. As a result, her knee collided hard against the table leg, and she winced in pain. "Ow!"

Aiore turned, his expression slightly annoyed, and saw her clutching her bruised leg. He couldn't believe how clumsy she was. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to her, lifted her effortlessly into his arms, and began carrying her back to her room.

"You really are a disaster waiting to happen," he muttered under his breath.

Arielle wanted to retort, but the embarrassment and the slight thrill of being carried by him made her stay quiet. When they reached her room, he gently set her down on the bed and turned to leave.

"Wait," she said again, grabbing his hand this time. "Don't go. I-I've never slept alone before." The words slipped out before she could stop herself. Lies and many lies.

Aiore froze, staring down at their joined hands. His heart clenched, an unfamiliar emotion rising inside him, but instead of giving in, he pulled his hand away, his face hardening.

"No," he said, his voice flat. He stepped back, turning his back on her, and left the room without another word.

Arielle watched him go, her heart sinking. She'd gone too far, too fast. She wasn't sure why she had asked him to stay-it had just felt like the right thing to say in the moment. But now, as she sat there, alone and rejected, she couldn't help but feel like she had ruined everything.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself, burying her face in her hands. "You're rushing things. He probably thinks you're desperate. He's definitely angry now."

She sighed deeply, lying back against her pillows. "Great. Now I've made things worse. Back to square one."

As the night dragged on, her mind raced with anxious thoughts. She could only hope that the progress she thought she had made tonight hadn't completely unraveled.

'Ughhhhh! Life is so tough!!'