Kiara gazed at the selection of noodles at the convenience store near her place. Since her go-to quick dinner wasn’t available, she scanned through the other options. Her brand loyalty compelled her to pick another flavor from the same company.
It had been another long day of work. On top of that, Kiara had spent most of it making phone calls, trying to find help for Cassandra’s case. Once again, she felt completely drained.
I did my best today, she thought, watching the hot water pour into her cup noodles. It’s alright. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Forcing a smile and shaking off the exhaustion crawling down her spine, she picked up the noodles and set them on a tray. Since this was going to be her dinner tonight, she didn’t bother bringing it home. Instead, she took a seat outside the convenience store, at one of the small tables set up under the awning.
"Good thing no one is here," she muttered, waiting for the noodles to soften so she could eat.
Her stomach growled. The scent rising from the cup reminded her she’d skipped lunch and barely had a bun because she was so busy all day.
"Who should I call next?" she wondered aloud, propping her chin on her palm as she scrolled through her contacts. Most were already people she had asked for a favor.
Many had wanted to help, but all were reluctant. They gave her the same excuses: the case was too complicated, or the Smiths should handle it.
How can I let the Smiths handle it when it’s obvious they don’t care?
Kiara sighed deeply, setting her phone down to give her brain a break and fill her stomach. But just as she was about to reach for her dinner, a hand suddenly snatched the cup of noodles.
Her eyes followed it, landing on the noodle thief now seated across from her.
Slowly, she looked up—and froze. Hugo Bennet was already stirring the noodles with the chopsticks like they belonged to him.
"..."
Her mouth opened, then closed. Words got stuck in her throat as he slurped the first mouthful.
That... that’s mine.
Kiara frowned as she studied him. Of course, she recognized him. Who wouldn’t recognize a Bennet? Each of them was distinct in their own way.
"This is not bad," he said after swallowing. "But I still prefer the other flavor—the classic one this brand used to have."
"I know," she muttered with a weak sigh, watching as he continued to eat her dinner without even asking. "Is it delicious, though?"
"Of course."
"I see." She nodded slowly, still unsure how to react to this bizarre turn of events.
"Do you want some?" he asked.
Of course I want some—it’s my dinner!
But Kiara kept that thought to herself. She was already too exhausted to get angry. She cupped her face in her hands, watching him quietly before turning her gaze elsewhere. She could argue or get another one. But even arguing felt like a chore.
Still, her eyes drifted back to him.
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