A recipe of love

Chapter 29

The coffee house thrummed gently, a low murmur of voices mingling with the inviting scent of freshly ground coffee beans. Nathaniel sat alone by the window, swirling his cup absentmindedly, his gaze drifting over the cobbled streets outside. It was a rare instance of solitude, yet that very quiet seemed only to amplify the questions gnawing at his heart-the weight of words unspoken, of memories unresolved, echoing in his mind.

Suddenly, the soft chime of the door's bell broke his reverie, and Nathaniel's eyes flicked up instinctively. His hand paused mid-stir, breath catching as he saw her-Margaret. She stood just inside the threshold, her presence filling the room, her gaze wandering across the tables as though drawn by some unseen force. Then her eyes found his.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to slow. Neither moved, neither looked away, the air between them thick with unspoken words and a fragile tension that held them bound. But then, with an effort, Margaret's expression hardened. Her gaze steeled, and she turned sharply, heading for the door. A pang shot through Nathaniel's chest as he watched her retreat. With a determined resolve, he rose, the need for answers propelling him after her before his mind could dissuade him.

Outside, he quickened his stride, calling out, "Margaret," his voice carrying above the distant clamor of carriages and the muted buzz of the street.

She paused, turning to him with a guarded expression. "What is it, Nathaniel? Are you now to follow me about the streets as well?"

"I do not intend to follow, nor intrude upon you," he replied, his voice softer than she might have anticipated. "But there are matters between us, left festering, unspoken. We need to settle them-end this... discord, once and for all."

Her gaze hardened, though a glint of weariness softened her expression. "Discord, you call it? As though it were some petty squabble over tea. No, Nathaniel. This is not a mere dispute-it is a tragedy," she replied, bitterness threading through her tone.

Nathaniel took a step nearer, his voice low, colored by regret. "It need not be either, Margaret. There is no call for such animosity between us."

Margaret laughed, a hollow sound as she looked away. "No animosity? Nathaniel, do you even hear yourself?"

A flicker of remorse crossed his face, and he lowered his tone, almost pleading. "I ask only that we set aside this nonsense-this endless bitterness. Let us speak plainly to one another."

She sighed, her voice hardening despite the glimmer of pain in her eyes. "And what, pray, is there left to mend after all that has been shattered? You broke my trust, Nathaniel, when you chose to remain abroad... with her."

Nathaniel's expression darkened, the weight of their fractured past settling heavily upon him. "And you speak to me of broken trust? You, who went off with that fool, that-Mr. Lennox?"

"Do not speak of him in such a manner!" she snapped, her cheeks flushed with indignation. "Mr. Lennox is a gentleman-a title which, I daresay, you can no longer claim!"

In a sudden, impulsive gesture, Nathaniel reached for her shoulders, his grasp firm yet trembling. "Do you love him?" he demanded, his voice raw, desperation evident in his gaze.

They held each other's gaze, her vulnerability briefly flashing before she turned her face aside. He asked again, quieter this time, but with an urgency that betrayed him, "Margaret... do you love him?"

She pulled back, her chin lifting defiantly. "Why should it matter to you, Nathaniel? You have made your choice. You remain with her."

He released her shoulder, his expression clouded, his voice thick with something unspoken. "I am not with her in the way you imagine. We have a child... a son."