Beyond the Divorce

Atlas led me to the dining table, and the dishes were promptly served as soon as we sat down.

I was actually hungry. My pregnancy symptoms were mild this time, with hardly any morning sickness. I was just incredibly sleepy. Additionally, I noticed I had a hearty appetite. Despite having a bland taste in my mouth a few days ago, I always felt hungry.

Today's dish was lobster. The white, steamed lobster meat looked appetizing, and I wanted to dig into it immediately.

Seeing my eagerness to eat, Atlas smirked. "You've got quite the appetite, huh?"

"It seems like I want to eat everything Sandy makes," I replied honestly.

Atlas chuckled even more. "Everything she made was what you used to love. Take this lobster, for example. You'd only eat it with garlic oil drizzled on top. You don't like the spicy kind." As he spoke, I realized I craved spicy flavors the most.

Back in my hometown, there were no cinnamon toasts, so every time I ate toast, I felt a strange emotion. I vividly remember asking my mom, "Why are they all topped with peanut butter?" My mom would always ask me, "What would you like?"

But I couldn't express my preferences. I just knew it wasn't peanut butter.

It wasn't until I went to university in Foswood that I encountered cinnamon toasts for the first time. I indulged without restraint, and everyone in my dorm knew I loved cinnamon toasts.

At that time, Beatrice would bring cinnamon toasts to me whenever she needed something from me.

out that was what I used to

talked a lot. She could go on and

laughter while recounting them, and Atlas and I would

us interrupted her. Atlas knew I enjoyed listening to Sandy's stories, and he would accompany

talking, and

imagine that the usually aloof Atlas had let go of all pretenses and relaxed into a gentle and caring head

this because of

gave him precisely the kind of

pee, only to find Atlas wasn't up bed. I was a bit puzzled. It was so late, so why hadn't he slept

here compared to back home, it should still

room. The corridor was dimly lit by a small nightlight, and it was quiet

knowing which room

I was dazed, I heard faint

looked toward the stairs, feeling a little nervous. After a moment, I

surprised when he saw me, quickly walking over and asking, "What's wrong? Why are you up? Are you

looked at him, feeling a little disoriented but now fully