She didn't want to pay any more attention to Nash, ready to leave. Just as she turned, she caught Nash looking at her.

He said, "It'll be ready soon. Are you hungry?"

Nina halted her steps, facing him squarely. "I only care about when you're leaving," she replied.

Nash evaded the question, saying, "We'll eat in ten minutes."

Nina saw him turn away, focusing on the dish he was preparing, evidently avoiding addressing her question.

Ten minutes later, Nash emerged with a small pot of chicken soup. Placing it on the table, he wiped his hands with a towel and looked at Nina. "Come over, it's ready," he said.

the pregnancy recipe. It appeared as if he had come to terms with the

took a seat opposite him. Nash lifted the lid off the pot, releasing steam infused with the savory scent

asked, content with his creation. With just the two of them in the room now,

the soup ladle into the pot. "I noticed you

challenging, but preparing such a substantial dish for the first time was a new experience for him. "I made some for you," he said, spooning some soup into her

demeanor, unable to detect any trace of his previous insistence on her having an abortion. She chuckled lightly. "So, have you come to terms

paused, his gaze shifting to her belly, his expression darkening for a moment before he placed the bowl in

recall how eager you were about me getting an abortion before. Why the sudden gesture of kindness with the chicken soup?" She had to be cautious. Nash was capable of anything to

Miranda. Did

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