Then came the meal. Sumptuous.
A feast worthy of another world, far from anything I had ever known.
The flavors... they defied words.
Unknown spices burst on my tongue, awakening sensations I had never felt.
Each bite was a discovery, each texture a riddle: melting, crispy, vibrant between my teeth.
Even the drink — a clear liquid, shimmering under the dim light — had a taste I couldn't define.
Sweet and bitter, soft and strong at once, like a whispered promise then torn away.
It was unreal. As if this meal had come from a dream where the memories of hunger, fear, and misery had never existed.
Each sip, each swallowed fragment pushed me deeper into this new reality I did not yet dare to call mine.
And he, sitting not far away, a glass between his fingers, drank slowly, savoring each sip with rare patience.
His gaze, usually so piercing, had become softer, as if veiled by a gentle fatigue or momentary surrender.
