Sweet Hatred Chapter 329: Food Stall pt 2

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" I asked gently. He blinked up at , eyes brimming with tears. I doubted he understood English, so I smiled and mid dusting off my knees. "Up, see? You’re fine."

The boy sniffled, hesitated, then copied , brushing at the dirt on his pants. His tears eased into a watery smile just as Kael’s shadow stretched over us.

"You’re good with kids," he said, voice quiet but certain.

I glanced up at him, caught in the depth of his gaze while the boy resud running about. "I think that’s the second ti you’ve said that."

"It’s because it’s true."

Sothing in twisted hard, guilt clawing up my throat as the reminder of what I’d lost slamd back into . The ache, the empty space that had been carved out of . My smile faltered, my chest hollowing.

And the question rolled out my tongue before I could stop it. "Do you want to have kids?"

His expression froze and I imdiately realized the weight of my question. Before he could say sothing I covered his mouth hastily. "Don’t answer that!"

I wasn’t even sure why I didn’t want to hear it but sothing in couldn’t handle anymore topic relating to that.

"But-" Kael tried to speak.

"No!" I shot him a look. But it didn’t last as I pulled my hands back to my side.

Kael noticed instantly. His hand found mine again, steady and unyielding, tugging gently but firmly back to my chair. He didn’t ask, didn’t push. He just sat down again like he’d pulled back from the edge of so cliff.

And just like that, I breathed again.

Kael’s eyes lingered on longer than I wanted. Too sharp, too perceptive, like he was peeling back my layers without even trying. My stomach clenched. I prayed he wouldn’t ask. I prayed he wouldn’t drag out the truth I wasn’t ready to face, because if he did, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.

But instead of pressing, instead of demanding answers like he always did, his hand just closed over mine. Large, steady, grounding. He lifted my fingers again and pressed a slow kiss to my knuckles, then another, softer still.

"Whatever’s on your mind Aria," he murmured, his lips brushing my skin, "don’t be scared to tell . And I want as many kids as you want Aria."

The words froze . I swallowed hard, guilt clawing up my throat like glass. My chest burned with the truth I couldn’t give him, so I forced a smile, small and fragile, and prayed he wouldn’t notice the way it trembled.

rcifully, I was spared when the man from before appeared, balancing two small plates in his hands. He set them down carefully, the aroma imdiately filling the space between us.

On one plate were juicy skewers of spiced pork, still smoking faintly from the grill, their edges charred just enough to make my mouth water. The scent of paprika and cumin curled through the air, rich and tempting. On the other were golden little pastries, so puffed and flaky from the oven, others crisp and fried, each stuffed with a mystery filling that made the air even hungrier.

The man gave us a polite nod before disappearing again, and I found myself staring at the food, not because I was starving, but because it was easier than looking Kael in the eye when my chest was still raw with guilt.

I picked up one of the skewers, the at glistening under the sunlight, smoky spices clinging to my fingertips. I hesitated a little, side-eyeing Kael across the tiny painted table. He wasn’t touching the food, just sitting there, his gaze fixed entirely on like I was the al instead.

I arched a brow. "What? Don’t tell you’ve never eaten street food before."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he stayed silent, maddeningly so.

"You haven’t," I accused, my voice dropping into a laugh as I waved the skewer at him. "Kael Roman, the almighty, terrifying, untouchable man who makes grown n piss themselves... doesn’t know what it’s like to eat food off a plastic plate?"

That earned a low chuckle, and his eyes softened in a way that made my chest ache. "I’ve had worse things on my plate than this," he said quietly. "But no... never like this."

I blinked at him, my teasing caught mid-breath, and for a mont it felt like he ant more than just food. My stomach flipped, the good kind, the dangerous kind, the kind I didn’t want to admit out loud.

"Well," I muttered, biting into the pork before he could see my face heating. The flavors exploded on my tongue, smoky, tender, dripping with spice, and I nearly moaned. "Okay... I get it. This is actually heaven."

When I glanced back at him, his lips curved. Not at the food. At . Like the way I ate was more fascinating than the plate in front of him.

"Stop staring at like that," I said, shoving an empanadilla toward him. "Eat sothing before you burn holes through my face."

He leaned forward, but instead of taking the pastry from my hand, he brushed his fingers against mine, steady and deliberate, and brought it to my lips instead. "You first."

"I already did." I swallowed, staring at him, my pulse too loud in my ears. But I bit down anyway, the crust flaking onto my fingers. His eyes never left , following the way my lips moved, the way I chewed, like every second was his favorite secret.

"Then take another bite."

"You’re ridiculous," I whispered, but I didn’t stop him when he wiped a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, slow, deliberate, almost tender.

"Maybe," he said, finally biting into one himself, though his gaze still didn’t waver. "But if watching you enjoy sothing makes ridiculous... I’ll live with that."

My heart squeezed so tight I had to look down at the plate again, pretending to fuss over the food when all I really wanted was to kiss him across the table.

Kael finally gave in, his pride crumbling the mont I shoved another skewer toward him with a glare that dared him to refuse. He bit into it, and though his expression stayed carefully neutral, I saw it, that faint spark of surprise in his eyes.

I smirked. "You like it."

He leaned back slowly, chewing like he was trying to drag it out just to annoy . "It’s tolerable."

I laughed, rolling my eyes, and nudged his leg under the table. "You’re impossible."

But he was smiling faintly now, that rare smile that softened him in a way I almost didn’t recognize. For a fleeting second, it felt like we were already halfway living so ridiculous little dostic life, sharing food at a small street stall, laughing, teasing, like we belonged nowhere else but in monts like this.

That warmth wavered the mont I caught the whispers. A table behind us. Then another across. Eyes that weren’t subtle about watching. I shifted in my seat, my stomach tightening as I realized most of them weren’t looking at . They were staring at him.

Of course they were.

And then it happened. A group of young girls, bold, giggling, practically swooning, ca right up to our table. They didn’t even spare a glance, which was just... rude, honestly. One of them leaned forward eagerly, her phone in hand.