The restaurant was located on the top floor of a luxury hotel in the heart of the city. Annie stepped out of the elevator and stopped. The entire dining area stretched along a wall of glass, offering a breathtaking view of the city lights. Soft music played in the background, and the tables were arranged far enough apart to provide privacy. A waiter approached immediately. “Good evening, Mr. Starks. Your table is ready.” Annie looked at Brian. “You made a reservation?” “Yes.” “You said this was just dinner.” “It is.” “Then why does everyone look as though the president is coming?” Brian glanced around. “They’re doing their jobs.” “Your existence must be exhausting for ordinary people.” He ignored that and gestured toward the table. Annie sat down, taking in the elegant setting. A candle flickered between them, casting warm light across the white tablecloth. The waiter handed her a menu. She opened it. Then she closed it. Brian noticed. “Is something wrong?” “Why are there no prices?” “It’s a set menu.” “That’s not an answer.” “You can order whatever you want.” Annie opened the menu again. “I don’t trust restaurants that hide their prices.” “You don’t have to pay.” “That’s not the point. I like knowing when someone is trying to rob me.” Brian leaned back. “You’re welcome to ask.” Annie turned toward the waiter, who was standing nearby. “How much is the grilled lobster?” The waiter hesitated briefly before giving her the price. Annie’s eyes widened. “Does it come with a certificate of ownership?” Brian lowered his gaze, but she caught the slight movement of his shoulders. He was laughing. Quietly. Annie pointed at him. “Don’t laugh. That lobster probably has a better financial future than I do.” “I’ll order something else.” “No.” She turned back to the menu. “I want the lobster now that I know it’s expensive.” Brian looked at her. “What?” “You just complained about the price.” “I can complain and still enjoy it. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.” A waiter approached to take their orders. Annie selected the lobster, roasted vegetables, soup, and a dessert she couldn’t pronounce but immediately trusted because it contained chocolate. Brian ordered grilled fish and rice. Annie looked up. “That’s all?” “Yes.” “You’re paying for dinner at a restaurant like this and ordering like a man who has lost a bet.” “I’m not particularly hungry.” Her expression changed. She remembered what Margaret had told her. Brian skipped meals. He worked too much. He ignored his body until it complained. Annie lowered her menu. “Are you sick?” Brian’s gaze lifted to hers. “No.” “That was a suspiciously fast answer.” “I’m fine.” “People who are fine don’t usually say it with that expression.” “What expression?” “The expression of a man who wants everyone to stop asking questions.” Brian said nothing. Annie leaned forward slightly. “Do you have stomach problems?” His fingers paused beside his glass. It was a small movement, but she noticed. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes what?” “Sometimes my stomach hurts.” “And you still don’t eat properly?” “I eat.” “When?” “When I have time.” Annie stared at him. Then she leaned back and crossed her arms. “You’re an idiot.” The waiter, who had just returned with their water, froze. Brian looked at her calmly. “You say that often.” “Because you keep giving me reasons.” The waiter placed the glasses down and quickly retreated. Brian watched Annie for a moment. “You’re concerned.” “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m offended by your poor decision-making.” “That sounds like concern.” “That sounds like you need a hobby.” His mouth curved slightly. Annie sighed. “You should see a doctor.” “I have.” “Recently?” “Yes.” “Did the doctor tell you to skip meals?” “No.” “Then perhaps you should listen to the doctor instead of behaving like a stubborn teenager.” Brian picked up his glass. “You’re very comfortable giving orders.” “I’m comfortable giving correct orders.” He took a sip of water. Annie looked away, pretending to study the restaurant. She didn’t understand why his health bothered her. Brian was an adult. He was wealthy, capable, and surrounded by people who could arrange medical appointments, meals, and practically everything else. Yet, somehow, he seemed to believe that ignoring pain was a reasonable lifestyle. She hated that. Perhaps because she knew what it was like when someone pretended they were fine. The food arrived, and Annie’s mood improved immediately. The lobster was delicious. The soup was even better. And the chocolate dessert was so good that she closed her eyes after the first bite. Brian watched her. “What?” she asked without opening her eyes. “You look happy.” “I am.” “Because of the dessert?” “Don’t insult it by reducing it to dessert. This is art.” Brian glanced at the small plate. “It’s chocolate cake.” “An uninformed opinion.” She took another bite. Brian’s phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen but didn’t answer. Annie noticed. “Aren’t you going to take that?” “No.” “What if it’s important?” “They can wait.” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re ignoring work?” “For dinner.” “With me?” Brian looked at her. “Yes.” Annie suddenly became aware of the quiet restaurant, the candle between them, and the way he had placed his phone face down. She looked back at her dessert. “That’s either very considerate or deeply irresponsible.” “Which do you prefer?” “I haven’t decided.” “Take your time.” Annie took another bite, though she was no longer thinking about the cake. After a few moments, Brian asked, “What do you usually do when you’re not studying?” “Sleep.” “Anything else?” “Eat.” “Besides sleeping and eating?” “Judge people.” He nodded thoughtfully. “A busy schedule.” “I also read.” “What kind of books?” “Anything interesting.” “That’s vague.” “You ask vague questions.” Brian considered that. “What would be a specific question?” Annie placed her fork down. “Ask me something you actually want to know.” He was quiet. The question seemed to make him think more carefully than she expected. Finally, he asked, “What was your life like before you returned to the Samsons?” Annie’s fingers tightened around her fork. The atmosphere changed. Not dramatically. There was no sudden darkness, no ominous music. Just a question that reached somewhere she usually kept closed. She looked toward the window. “Small,” she said. Brian didn’t interrupt. “I lived with Auntie Mei in a little house. We didn’t have much, but we had enough. She sold food, and I helped when I wasn’t studying. Sometimes we argued about money. Sometimes we argued about my sleeping habits.” “Your sleeping habits?” “She believes waking up early builds character.” “Does it?” “No. It builds resentment.” Brian’s lips twitched. Annie smiled faintly, but her expression soon softened. “Auntie Mei worked hard. She always made sure I had what I needed, even when she had to go without something herself.” “Do you miss her?” The question was quiet. Annie didn’t answer immediately. “Yes,” she said at last. “Every day.” Brian nodded once. “You can visit whenever you want.” “I know.” “Then why haven’t you?” Annie looked down. Because returning to Auntie Mei’s home would remind her that everything had changed. Because she was afraid that once she went back, she wouldn’t want to leave. Because the Samson residence still felt unfamiliar, but the little house outside the city had begun to feel like a place she had left behind. “I will,” she said. Brian didn’t press her. That restraint surprised her. Most people asked more questions when she became quiet. They tried to pull out feelings she wasn’t ready to explain. Brian simply let the silence remain. And somehow, that made it easier to breathe. After dinner, Brian led her to a private terrace attached to the restaurant. The night breeze brushed against Annie’s face. Below them, cars moved through the streets like streams of light. She rested her hands on the railing. “This is nice.” “I thought you disliked surprises.” “I dislike unpleasant surprises. This is acceptable.” “High praise again.” “You’re collecting it?” “Apparently.” Annie turned toward him. For a moment, neither spoke. Brian stood beside her, his jacket moving slightly in the breeze. Without the crowded restaurant and the formal setting, he seemed less distant. More human. Annie tilted her head. “Why did you bring me here?” “For dinner.” “You could have taken me anywhere.” “Yes.” “Then why here?” Brian looked out at the city. “Because it’s quiet.” Annie studied his profile. “You like quiet?” “Most of the time.” “That’s unfortunate. You’re associated with me now.” He turned to her. “Are we associated?” Annie’s heartbeat stumbled. She immediately covered it with a scoff. “You invited me to dinner. Don’t become dramatic.” “I asked a question.” “And I answered it.” “You didn’t.” She turned back toward the view. “You’re becoming argumentative.” “I learned from you.” “Then I apologize to the world.” Brian laughed. This time, the sound was clear. Annie looked at him. She had seen him smile before, but hearing him laugh like that was different. It softened his face and erased some of the distance surrounding him. She found herself staring. Brian noticed. “What?” he asked. Annie quickly looked away. “Nothing.” “You’re staring.” “I’m deciding whether your face looks better when you laugh.” “And?” “Undecided.” He stepped slightly closer, though he left enough distance between them. “Take your time.” The same words again. Annie looked at him. There was something about the way he spoke them—without impatience, without pressure—that made her feel as though she could say anything and he would simply wait. She wasn’t accustomed to that. Before she could speak, Brian’s phone rang. This time, he answered. “Yes?” His expression changed as he listened. Annie turned away, giving him privacy. After a short conversation, he ended the call. “Work?” she asked. “Yes.” “Problem?” “Nothing I can’t handle.” She looked at him. “You say that too often.” “And you ask too many questions.” “Because you answer too few.” Brian slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’ll take you home.” Annie nodded. As they returned to the elevator, she glanced at him. “Brian?” “Yes?” “Next time, we’re going somewhere normal.” “Define normal.” “A place with prices on the menu.” “Then I’ll find one.” “And somewhere I can wear sneakers.” “You can wear sneakers anywhere.” Annie looked up at him. “You’re learning.” “I’m trying.” She smiled. Neither of them noticed the woman standing near the hotel entrance as they left. She had watched Brian escort Annie to the car and had taken note of the way he opened the door for her. Her phone vibrated. Unknown Number: Any useful information? The woman looked at the departing car. After a moment, she typed: Woman: He appears serious about her. She hesitated, then added: Woman: I’ll find out why. The drive home was quieter than the journey there. Annie sat beside Brian, watching the city pass by. She was full from dinner and strangely content. Then Brian shifted in his seat. It was subtle. His hand moved toward his abdomen, and his jaw tightened. Annie noticed immediately. “Your stomach hurts.” Brian lowered his hand. “It’s fine.” “Don’t lie.” “I’m not.” “You literally just grabbed your stomach.” “It was uncomfortable.” “That is another way of saying it hurts.” He didn’t answer. Annie leaned forward. “Do you have medicine?” “In the glove compartment.” “Take it.” “I will when I get home.” “Now.” “Annie—” “Stop arguing.” The driver’s eyes flickered toward them through the mirror, then quickly returned to the road. Brian looked at Annie. She looked back without blinking. After several seconds, he opened the glove compartment and took out the medication. He swallowed the recommended dose with water. Annie watched carefully. “Better?” “Give it a moment.” She leaned back, arms crossed. “From now on, you’re not allowed to skip meals.” Brian looked at her. “Not allowed?” “Yes.” “Who gave you that authority?” Annie pointed at herself. “I did.” His gaze rested on her for a moment. Then he said, “All right.” She blinked. “That easily?” “You seem determined.” “I am.” Brian looked out the window. “Then I’ll try.” Annie’s expression softened. “Don’t just try.” He turned toward her. “I’ll do my best.” It wasn’t a grand promise. It wasn’t romantic. But Annie believed him. And that, more than anything, made her nervous. When the car stopped outside the Samson residence, Brian turned toward her. “Thank you for dinner.” Annie frowned. “You paid for it.” “I meant the company.” She looked at him, caught off guard once again. Then she opened the door. “You’re welcome.” She stepped out, but before closing it, she leaned down. “Brian?” “Yes?” “Next time, order more food.” His eyes warmed with amusement. “I’ll remember.” Annie shut the door and walked toward the house. Brian watched her until she disappeared inside. Only then did he lean back and close his eyes briefly. His stomach still ached, but the pain had eased. For the first time in a long while, he had spent an entire evening without thinking about work every minute. And he knew exactly who was responsible.

The Rules of Dinner