Mia's figure disappeared outside the door, taking all the air in the room with her.
It wasn't until a sharp, burnt smell jolted Zoey from her heavy thoughts that she sprang into action, rushing to the kitchen.
There, a steak lay quietly in the frying pan, its edges already blackened.
"What's going on?" Owen's voice sounded behind her.
Zoey turned around, her face full of apology, and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Owen. I... I'll make your dinner again."
But Owen just shook his head gently, taking the charred steak and heading to the dining room.
In the soft lighting, his figure seemed particularly elegant and composed.
"Mr. Owen is easygoing. At least he's not picky," Zoey thought, relieved.
As Owen ate, the room was filled only with the soft clinks of his knife and fork against th
