The staff glided in, tray in hand, carrying an array of artfully plated dishes and a bottle of deep-red wine. Each food was placed on the polished table with practiced precision, the clink of cutlery and soft rustle of fabric punctuating the warm, ambient glow of the room.
Selina's breath tightened in her chest for a while as she slid her gaze across the table.
It fell on Zane, who was staring at her quietly, which caused her brows to narrow.
She must not throw up before him repeatedly! She looked away, hoping there wasn't food there with a strong smell.
As she scanned the table, Selina was grateful that the table didn't have a meal that could trigger nausea. She let out a long sigh, reaching for a spoon.
Zane's brows furrowed, noticing Selina was being picky. They might not be close but the little times he had been with her for a fleeting moment, he got to understand that she wasn't a picky eater.
Was this related to health too? He thought, reaching for his cutlery.
