His Sunflower

22

'He looked at her the way she needed to be looked at. Like the whole world would crumble and he wouldn't blink.'

I nearly started to cry, again.

No one had ever bought my flowers before, and sunflowers! I couldn't stop the massive smile that appeared on my face.

"T-thank you", I said in awe, still in shock that he actually got me sunflowers!

I couldn't stop looking at them! The bright yellow colour already made me feel happier and I loved the fresh smell that they gave off.

"Non è molto. Sono contento che ti piacciano (It's nothing much. I'm glad you like them)", he shook it off and began to look in the fridge.

"Any allergies or dietary requirements?", he asked, still looking at the ingredients he had in the kitchen.

"I-I'm vegetarian", I said so quietly that I was surprised he heard me.

"Anche io (me too)", he said with a smile.

"Is pasta okay?", he asked, looking back at me.

Giving him a small nod, he began to take out all of the ingredients onto the counter. It looked as if he was going to make the pasta from scratch and I was so excited to try it.

I went round to the sink, washed my hands, and made my way around to the table to help him cook.

"You need to rest, amore. I've got this, go sit on the sofa and I'll call you when it's ready. Someones waiting for you in the living room", he said with a cheeky smile.

I wonder who he was talking about? Not wanting to argue with him, and secretly being in a lot of pain, I have him a little nod and made my way to the living room.

After getting lost for a while, I finally made it and collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh. Just as I was about to close my eyes and get some rest, a familiar fur ball came in view.

It was as if he could remember who I was as he came running to me and began to lean his head into my palm, probably waning me to pet him. I could see that his leg was still causing him some pain, so I lifted him up and sat him down on my lap.

After a few minutes of petting him, we both got tired so with a small yawn, I closed my eyes and could feel the dog snuggling into my chest, also fast asleep.

"Tesoro, la pasta è pronta (sweetheart, the pasta is ready)", he said quietly, making me wake up.

I've always been a light sleeper. It was a skill I quickly learnt when I knew that being asleep didn't mean a father free night.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I picked up the fur ball who was still asleep on me and laid him down on his dog bed, then quickly followed him into the kitchen.

His big steps made it extremely hard for my small ones to catch up with so I let out a sigh of relief when he started walking slower.

Before I even entered the kitchen, I could smell the delicious food he had made and my mouth was salivating.

"I hope you're hungry, love", he said, pulling a chair out for me to sit on. I gave him a small smile before sitting down on the chair. He went around the table and sat down in the chair in front of me.

The food looked mouth-watering on the table and help my tummy grumbling at the sight. He had set up the table beautifully, with a candle on the table and the sunflowers in a vase in the middle. The food was presented expertly on two plates and if I didn't see him cooking the food himself, I would think he hired a professional chef in to make if for us.

The food was right in front of me, tempting me to take a bite, but I couldn't. I had to wait for him to eat first.

I don't deserve to eat first, my father used to say.

That was before he stopped giving me food altogether. Not eating much until it was absolutely necessarily made my appetite shrink but recently, since I've been with him, hes been making sure that I've been eating all three meals during the day, including snacks in between.

"Is something wrong? Do you not like it? I can make something else if you want?", he said, worriedly.

"N-No! I-I was just w-waiting for y-you to eat f-first", I whispered out, scared that I did something wrong.

"Non devi mai aspettare che io faccia prima qualcosa, okay? (you never have to wait for me to do anything first, okay?)", he says, signalling to start eating the food in front of me.

I slowly picked up a fork and put some pasta on it, bringing it close to my mouth. Before I could even eat it, the smell overwhelmed me.

Home cooked food.

I don't even remember the last time that I had eaten properly around a table. I always had to sneak scraps of food to eat in my room alone and quickly eat it before my father caught me.

Shaking those horrible thoughts away, I ate the pasta that was on my fork and had I had never tasted something so flavourful and tasty.

"È buono? (Is it good?)", he asked anxiously.

"Sì", I said, taking another bite. I don't know what happened to the shy girl in me, but I soon as I had one bite, I was less nervous to take another and another.

It made me so happy to be able to eat without thinking about the consequences. Worrying about being caught. Worry about when my next meal would be.

Obviously, due to my previous eating habits, I ate less than it felt like I did but I felt so full. I still had almost half the portion left of what I started with but honestly, it felt like I had eaten so much more.

I knew that he knew what I was thinking, but he didn't comment on it, making me feel better about myself.

I felt bad that it was always him that was starting the conversations so I decided to say something first this time.

"Who t-taught you how to c-cook?"