Chapter 224: The Porridge and the Plan

When Sophia’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing she noticed was the stillness. It wasn’t the kind of silence that followed night, but the sleepy hush of afternoon light filtering through thin curtains. Her body felt heavier than usual, as though she’d been sleeping for days instead of hours.

For a brief second, her hand reached out to the other side of the bed — instinctively searching for warmth that wasn’t there. The linen was cool. Empty.

Her brows furrowed. Orion?

Blinking hard, she pushed herself upright, her head throbbing faintly at the temples. Her hair fell over one shoulder in soft tangles. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm, trying to gather her bearings. The light in the room had that soft gold that came late in the day — the time when the world began to quiet but had not yet surrendered to evening.

She turned, scanning for Orion at first, but after seeing how bright the day was, she was certain he was still working.

Her stomach grumbled, loud and demanding, and the sound made her snort softly. "Alright, alright," she muttered to it, dragging her feet off the bed.

The floor was warm beneath her soles. That caught her attention immediately — too warm, considering she hadn’t lit the hearth herself. When she glanced around, she saw the evidence everywhere: the faint scent of smoke from the fire pit, the arranged shelves. Someone had tidied everything. And she knew exactly who it was.

She never thought that he’d tidy up her home.

Her gaze settled on something else at that point.

On the small table sat a wooden bowl covered with cloth. Steam curled faintly from beneath it. She approached it and noticed a note folded on top of it, placed with care. The handwriting was rough with firm strokes, the kind of script that never quite decided if it wanted to be neat or stubborn.

She frowned, wondering what could be written on it.

She picked up the paper.

> I’m only doing this because I like you. And as much as it pains me to say, I like you a lot. Don’t overwork yourself, shorty. And don’t even think about looking for meat. Eat the porridge — it’ll be good for your stomach, especially since you haven’t had anything to eat yet. Don’t miss me too much, too. Also, you snore when you’re tired. I don’t know how I ended up with someone who snores as my mate. I’ll see you later when you decide to wake up from your slumber. But quick question, how are you short and still able to snore? No wonder you can’t grow taller.

By the time she finished reading, Sophia was smiling so widely her cheeks hurt.

"Typical Orion," she whispered, shaking her head.

Only he would turn what should have been a sweet note into an insult-laced confession. Her fingers brushed the paper as though it were something precious — which, in a way, it was. His words, crude as they were, carried a strange tenderness beneath them.

She removed the cloth covering the bowl and noticed it was a bowl of porridge — and it was warm.

She sat at the table and took the spoon. The porridge’s surface rippled faintly. When she lifted the first spoonful, she blew on it and tasted. It was creamy and light, sweetened with honey and crushed nuts. It was delicious, but of course it would be. Cook made it, after all.

There was another cup beside it, a flask-like container made of carved wood sealed with wax. A smaller piece of paper was tied to it with twine.

> Drink some water first. I know you’ll likely eat like a hungry beast and forget you need to drink water first.

Sophia rolled her eyes, her smile turning crooked. He was an ogre through and through, even in his writing.

Still, she obeyed. She untied the wax seal and poured herself some from the water gourd near the hearth. The coolness soothed her throat.

As she drank, her gaze swept her home again. Everything looked different — warmer, tidier, as though the air itself had been rearranged to comfort her. Her cloak was neatly hung by the door. The hearth had fresh wood stacked by it. Her books were arranged on the shelf instead of scattered across the table like before. The air smelled faintly of pine and clean smoke.

She set the cup down slowly, feeling a strange ache in her chest.

He’d done all this. She never thought that Orion could be this caring... okay, that was a lie. She’d seen caring sides of him, so it wasn’t really a surprise.

When she finished eating, she leaned back in her chair, feeling fuller than she’d admit aloud. The food had warmth that reached deeper than her stomach.

For the first time in days, her body didn’t feel like it was ready to collapse. The ache in her limbs had dulled to a gentle hum, her thoughts no longer heavy. She felt light.

She still remembered how he had insisted that she start sleeping in his home, and her lips curved as a plan began to form in her brain. She was going to surprise him and show him how grateful she was for taking care of her. She could not wait to see the smile on his face.

With renewed energy, she pushed her chair back and went to wash the dishes. Her movements were light, almost humming under her breath. The golden light from the window kissed her skin as she moved about.

By the time she was done, she was already planning what to say when he found her. Something witty. Something that would make him flustered for once.

She changed into a clean tunic — soft linen the color of cream — and laced up her boots. She brushed her hair quickly, letting it fall freely around her shoulders.

She tied her cloak, then gave one last look at her house. Then, with a deep breath, she went to the door.

The moment she opened it, sunlight spilled in — sharp and golden, warming her face. She smiled to herself and stepped forward, ready to begin her little plan.

But she didn’t get the chance to take another step.

Someone stood just outside her house, his hands raised like he was about to knock.

Sophia froze in shock. "Eldric?"