Chapter 124 Morning Smiles
The sun was already bright when Fred woke up. The light slipped through the curtains and touched his face.
He groaned softly and turned over, his hair messy and his eyes still half closed. The alarm clock on the bedside table showed ten o’clock.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands.
“Ten already,” he said.
He had overslept again.
The blanket slid off him as he got up. He was still in his pajamas—soft gray ones that looked wrinkled from the night.
When he stepped out of the bedroom, a faint smell reached him.
Something warm, something like eggs and toast. His stomach growled. He followed the smell to the kitchen.
The sight there made him stop at the doorway.
Anabelle was standing by the stove wearing one of his shirts—it was too big for her and hung loosely on her shoulders.
Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she was humming softly to herself. The pan hissed as she turned the eggs with a wooden spoon.
Fred leaned on the door frame, smiling faintly. “So this is what happens when I oversleep,” he said.
Anabelle turned around quickly, her eyes wide at first, then soft. “Oh, you’re awake,” she said.
“Barely,” he said. “I thought I was dreaming. You in my kitchen, cooking breakfast?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said.
“I am surprised,” he said. “Usually you burn things.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “That was one time,” she said.
“It was three times,” he said.
She put a hand on her hip and gave him a playful glare. “Then maybe I’m improving,” she said.
Fred walked into the kitchen and sat at the counter. The sunlight fell across the table, and the smell of coffee filled the room.
He rested his elbows on the surface and watched her move around.
She looked comfortable there, humming softly, flipping toast, and checking on the eggs.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he said.
“I wanted to,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Because I wanted to make it up to you,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked.
“For last night,” she said softly. “I was a little… sharp.”
He smiled. “A little?” he said.
She turned back to the stove, hiding a smile. “Okay, maybe more than a little,” she said.
Fred chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” she said. “You didn’t deserve it. So I thought breakfast would help.”
“Breakfast always helps,” he said.
She turned off the stove and brought the plates to the table. “Then we’ll start the morning right,” she said.
The table looked simple—scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee—but it felt warm. Anabelle poured coffee into two cups and placed one in front of him.
He lifted the cup, inhaled the smell, and smiled. “Smells good,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said.
He took a sip and looked at her over the rim of the cup. “You look… happy today,” he said.
“Maybe I am,” she said. “It feels nice doing something simple.”
He nodded. “You always look nice when you’re smiling,” he said.
She gave a small laugh and looked down. “Stop that,” she said.
“Stop what?” he asked.
“Making me blush,” she said.
“I’m not making you blush,” he said. “You’re just bad at hiding it.”
She threw a piece of toast crust at him. “You’re impossible,” she said.
He caught it and laughed. “And you’re terrible at aiming,” he said.
They both laughed, and the sound filled the kitchen. It felt light, easy, the way mornings used to feel before things got complicated.
Anabelle sat across from him, her chin resting on her hand. “You know,” she said, “I thought about you a lot last night.”
He looked at her carefully. “Oh?” he asked. “Good thoughts, I hope?”
“Mostly,” she said.
“Mostly?” he asked. “That sounds dangerous.”
She smiled. “I was thinking about how patient you are,” she said. “And how I take it for granted sometimes.”
He looked down at his coffee, his smile softening. “You don’t have to say that,” he said.
“I want to,” she said. “You’re good to me, Fred. Even when I don’t make it easy.”
He looked up again. “You make it interesting,” he said.
“Interesting?” she asked, laughing.
“Yes,” he said. “Never boring.”
She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.
“It was meant to be one,” he said.
She reached across the table and touched his hand. “Thank you for putting up with me,” she said.
He turned his palm upward and held her fingers. “Always,” he said.
Her eyes softened, and for a moment, they just sat there in silence. The clock ticked softly in the background.
The air between them felt full—of warmth, of memory, of something neither of them said but both understood.
Anabelle broke the silence first. “You know,” she said, “I didn’t even burn the eggs this time.”
He grinned. “That’s progress,” he said.
“Maybe next time I’ll make pancakes,” she said.
“Maybe next time I’ll cook,” he said.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on her. “It’s good to see you smile again,” he said.
“I think I forgot how,” she said.
“Then remember it now,” he said.
She looked at him quietly, then nodded. “I will,” she said.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of birds came faintly through the window. The world outside was bright and alive.
Anabelle reached for her cup again. “You should eat before it gets cold,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She smiled and began to eat too. Between bites, they kept talking—about small things, about nothing serious.
She teased him about his messy hair. He teased her about her coffee being too sweet. The laughter kept coming, soft and natural.
After a while, she stood and gathered the plates. “I’ll wash these,” she said.
“I can help,” he said.
“Sit,” she said. “You’ve done enough.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “This is my way of saying sorry.”
He smiled. “Apology accepted,” he said.
She turned on the tap, humming again. The sound of running water filled the space.
Fred leaned back in his chair, watching her, the sunlight touching her face. For the first time in days, the house didn’t feel heavy.
“Hey, Anabelle,” he said.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Thank you,” he said.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said.
He sat quietly, watching her move, her voice low as she hummed another tune.
The morning felt light, and for once, it seemed that peace had found its way back into the house.