You are in the kitchen, pulling a dish out of the oven, when Tom walks in. He looks at the dish you are preparing with curiosity as you set it down to cool.

“What are you making?” he asks, very intrigued.

You turn to face him with a smile. “It’s Shepherd’s Pie. I thought it might be a nice surprise.”

Tom’s expression goes still, and for a moment, he seems lost in thought. You watch as he stands silently, and a knot of worry tightens in your stomach.

“Would you like to try it?” you offer, trying to read his reaction.

He nods slowly, and you serve him a spoonful. His eyes close as he takes the first bite. The silence stretches on, and you begin to worry that he doesn’t like it.

“I’m sorry if it’s not to your taste,” you start to apologize, feeling the weight of disappointment. “I can—”

Before you can finish, Tom’s eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and full of emotion. “I haven’t had this since I was a child,” he says quietly. “It was a favorite at the orphanage. It was a rare treat, and it’s been so long since I’ve had it.”

Your eyes soften, the worry giving way to a deep sense of understanding. “I’m glad it brings back good memories.”

Tom’s face lights up with a genuine smile, a rarity for him. “It’s very good,” he says, reaching over to kiss your forehead gently, the warmth of his lips lingering.

He settles into his seat, taking another bite with a newfound appreciation. Each mouthful is savored, and the contentment that washes over him is unmistakable. It is a rare sight, seeing Tom so at peace, his usually guarded demeanor giving way to a moment of pure, unguarded joy.

“I think I just might keep you,” he says between bites. You softly chuckle as you refill his plate.