The awkward tension hung thick in the penthouse dining room that morning.
Renar, looking perfectly at ease, spread grape jam over his toast with slow precision. But Lethia could see past his nonchalant expression. He looked exhausted, the traces of a sleepless night etched across his face.
"I'm sorry." Lethia's voice was firm as she absentmindedly stirred the steaming bowl of chicken porridge the robotic chef had prepared.
Renar arched a brow at her. "What for?"
"For last night." She didn't look at him as she spoke. "I started something I probably shouldn't have. Sorry if… it crossed a line for you."
"For me?"
She let out a quiet breath. "Hm… I did it fully aware of what I was doing, and I…I wasn't uncomfortable with it. So, I'm sorry if that wasn't the case for you."
Renar watched as she blew softly on the spoonful of hot porridge. Her shamelessness was beyond anything he could have imagined.
