Elijah’s pov ;
A soft chuckle escaped my lips. "Of course," I responded, amusent lacing my voice. "Why? Do you think I survive on take-out food? I used to cook back in college. It’s expensive to live alone, you know."
"Wow," he amused, clearly impressed. His eyes widened as he took in the way I was working and moving around in the kitchen. "I had no idea. What are you going to make?"
"Olette," I replied, effortlessly cracking eggs into a bowl. "It’s easy and quick. Is there anything else you’d like?"
"Anything is fine," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I’m not picky."
"Okay, then olette it is," I smiled widely, reaching for the ingredients.
As I began chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the silence between us.
"Let help," he suddenly offered, surprising .
I looked up at him in shock and he mirrored my expression. "What? Is there sothing on my face?"
"Do you even know how to handle a knife?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course, I do!" he huffed indignantly. "How hard can it be? I might even be better at cooking than you."
"Oh really?" I challenged playfully, a smirk tugging at my lips.
"Yes, really," he retorted, his tone defiant. "I can even show you if you don’t believe ."
"Well then, let’s see," I enunciated with a mischievous glint in my eye as I handed him a knife and a cutting board to work on.
His fingers deftly moved across the cutting board, chopping vegetables with precision and speed. It was a surprising sight to see the usually arrogant and pampered young man so skilled in the kitchen. I was simply blown by this fact.
I had always dismissed him as just another spoiled rich kid, but watching him cook like a normal person made wonder if there were other talents he possessed that I wasn’t aware of.
Curiosity got the better of and I couldn’t help but ask, "When did you learn to cook?"
His hands froze for a mont before a dark expression clouded his face. His eyes darted nervously between and the knife in his hand, a hint of sothing strange glinting in his gaze.
"I learned not too long ago," he replied quietly, almost shyly.
Watching him reveal this vulnerable side only piqued my curiosity further. "Why did you learn to cook?" I pressed on. "We have so many chefs at ho. Why did you feel the need to learn?"
His initial shyness turned into hesitation as he confessed. "I wanted to learn."
There was sothing in his tone that hinted at a deeper reason, sothing he wasn’t ready to openly share. But I couldn’t help but wonder what drove him to pick up a knife and start cooking.
For a mont, Ash remained silent, his eyes downcast and his shoulders slumped. Then, in a low and almost hesitant voice, he finally spoke.
"I learned to cook for you," he revealed, his words heavy with emotion.
F-For ? He....learned cooking for a scumbag like ?
His sad expression caught off guard. I was stunned, unable to process the depth of what he had just admitted. Ash, the boy I had been secretly plotting against for months, had been spending his ti learning how to cook for .
Before I could even form a response, Ash slowly let go of the cooking knife in his hand and turned to leave the kitchen. My mind raced with conflicting emotions—guilt for my betrayal, confusion over his unexpected revelation, and sothing else lingering beneath the surface that I couldn’t quite na.
"Ash, wait," I called out, reaching for his hand as he tried to leave. But he coldly tugged away from my grasp and turned to glare at , hurt evident in his eyes. "What’s wrong?"
"I’m not hungry anymore!" he spat bitterly before storming out of the room, leaving feeling lost and shaken by his unexpected confession.
I stood there, stunned and bewildered. My mind reeled as I processed the realisation that Ash had learned to cook for , a gesture of love and care that I had completely overlooked in my single-minded focus on revenge. A pang of guilt pierced my chest, my thoughts a tangled ss.
"Ash, please," I pleaded with a softer tone. "Talk to ."
I couldn’t let him leave like this. But as I watched him retreating back, my desperation grew.
"Then why did you never ntion it?" I asked hurriedly, my voice betraying my need for answers.
He stopped abruptly, his body tense as he turned to face . His face was a storm of pent-up emotions, years of unexpressed feelings finally breaking on his face suddenly.
Fuck! Do I really have to ruin the morning mood like this?
"I tried, Elijah!" he yelled at aggressively, his voice laced with pain and frustration. "But you were always too busy with your work. You always had so etings, so calls, sothing more important than !"
His words hit like a slap in the face. I had convinced myself that my cold distance was necessary for my plan to succeed, but hearing him speak the truth made realise the damaging effects of my actions. How could I have been so blind?
The words sliced through like the knife he was just using, each one a heavy blow to my defences. Ash’s voice trembled as he spoke and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes.
"You ignored intentionally," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Do you know how many tis I tried to get your attention? How many tis have I tried to make you see ?"
Guilt washed over , an overwhelming wave that threatened to drown . I had been so consud by my hatred, my need for revenge, that I hadn’t seen the man standing right in front of . He always tried reaching out to , and I had turned him away every single ti.
"I didn’t know," I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t realise—"
"Of course, you didn’t," he interrupted, his tone bitter. "You never cared to notice. You were so focused on your own plans, on your own annoyance, that you never saw mine."
His words echoed in the silence between us, each one a painful truth I had no choice but to face. I had been blind, willfully ignorant of his attempts to connect with , to care for .
"Ash, I..." I started again, but the words caught in my throat. How could I even begin to apologise for sothing so deeply ingrained in our shared past?
The room was thick with tension as my ears were ringing with his pain-filled complaints. "You what, Elijah?" he snapped, his voice laced with anger and hurt. "You’re sorry? Sorry that you ignored , that you treated like I didn’t matter?"
My heart clenched at his tone, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Sothing at my heart clenched tightly, as if soone was constantly punching in my guts, it was hard to breathe seeing him like this.
"I’m sorry that I hurt you," I managed to choke out, my voice trembling. If I could I would apologise to him thousands–no, a million tis. I wish he could allow to hug him to comfort him, to ease his pain. I know I can’t but still, I wanted to try. "I’m sorry that I didn’t see how much you were trying. I’m sorry that I was so focused on my own work that I missed what was right in front of ."
But he wasn’t having it and kept hurling snarls and accusations at . "Don’t you think it’s too late for sorry now, Elijah?" he scoffed, his expression filled with anger and disbelief.
All I could do was stand there and take his words, my guilt eating away at . The weight of his confession was heavy on my shoulders, and I struggled to et his gaze.
"You don’t know how much pain you’ve caused ," he continued. "You don’t know how many nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering why you hated so much. You don’t know how many days I spent wondering if I was the reason you pushed away. You don’t know how hard it was for to keep loving you, even when you gave nothing but pain."
But I couldn’t argue with him. He had every right to be angry and to let out all of his pent-up frustration. This was all my fault, and I would listen to his complaints today no matter what- he deserved to say whatever he wanted to today.
And I would listen.
Today I would listen to him silently until he finally felt satisfied after letting know all the mistakes I had made.
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