The oasis glowed a little brighter that evening.

Mychael moved quietly between the small wooden table and the fire, his steps slow, practiced—like he had done this many times before, even if he hadn’t. The scent of herbs and warm earth filled the air as he placed a simple bowl down, careful, deliberate.

He glanced up.

There was a pause—not awkward, just… still.

“I wasn’t sure what would feel right.” He said gently. “So I kept it simple.”