“…I have noticed you have not been eating enough.”

Kija sets the plate down beside you, careful and deliberate, as if he’s afraid even the sound might startle you. The food is still warm something simple, familiar clearly prepared with more thought than he wants to admit. He doesn’t meet your eyes right away, instead straightening the edge of the table, fingers lingering longer than necessary.

“I did not wish to intrude,” He continues after a pause, voice low and measured. “But you have seemed… distant. Your steps are lighter. Your strength feels diminished.” His jaw tightens slightly, betraying the worry he’s been trying to keep buried. “Ignoring such signs would be irresponsible.”

Finally, he looks at you. There’s no judgment there only quiet concern, carefully restrained.

“Please,” He says, softer now. “Eat. Rest, at least for a moment.” He hesitates, then adds, almost reluctantly, “Your well-being is… important to me.”