The next morning, William took a long bath after returning to his dormitory room.
The warm water washed away the fatigue from last night’s chaos, though his mind was still restless. He hadn’t wanted to come back here at all, but Emma had insisted. According to her, he would get proper rest on a bed instead of the hard forest floor. He didn’t argue much—mostly because he knew she was right.
While he soaked in the water, Emma had gone to fetch his clothes from the forest. They were supposed to leave for the contest venue in an hour, and she wanted everything to be ready before then.
After finishing his bath, William stared at his reflection in the mirror. Water droplets slid down his face and neck, disappearing into the faint muscle lines that marked his body. He looked exhausted, but a bit more alive than before.
He sighed deeply. "So much ego," he muttered with a half-smile, "only for my girlfriend to crush it with a few sweet words."
There was no real complaint in his tone—just a small chuckle of self-mockery. He knew Emma cared about him, and that’s why she had pushed him to rest properly.
"Alright, let’s get dressed."
He picked up a towel and wiped his body, then wrapped it around his waist. He assumed Emma must’ve already sent his clothes through someone, so he casually opened the door and stepped outside—only to stop dead in his tracks.
Standing there, with her back straight and a faint blush on her cheeks, was none other than Emma herself.
For a moment, both of them froze like statues.
Emma’s lips parted slightly as her eyes traced the man in front of her. His damp blond hair clung to his neck, and his skin glistened faintly in the soft morning light. His collarbones were sharp, his shoulders broad, and his torso... well, it was enough to make her throat dry. Those abs were practically carved, and she couldn’t help but think of things she probably shouldn’t be thinking about.
William caught the look and grinned playfully. "Look at those pervy eyes."
Emma blinked and lifted her chin, trying to sound composed. "Not just me," she said calmly, "many others already saw you like this last night."
William blinked in surprise, then remembered the battle—the moment he’d ripped his shirt apart. "Ah... right."
Emma handed him a freshly dried shirt she had been holding, her fingers brushing against his for the briefest second. He took it with a small smirk.
Emma sat down on the bed and crossed her legs. "Do you want to eat something? I can make you a quick sandwich."
William raised an eyebrow. "Will that be edible?"
That single line hit her like a slap to her culinary pride. The corporate worker who had lived alone for seven years—surviving on her own quick but well-honed meals—felt something inside her snap.
Without a word, she stood up, carrying her small bag of supplies toward the tiny dorm kitchen. Her expression turned serious as she began unpacking ingredients.
William tilted his head, amused, as he put on his pants and fastened his belt. "Why do I feel like I just started a war?" he muttered under his breath, then quietly watched her.
Emma’s movements were swift and efficient. She sliced the bread, sautéed the vegetables with a practiced hand, and boiled the meat to just the right tenderness.
"Woah, you’re doing all that?" William leaned against the wall. "A simple cheese sandwich would’ve been fine—"
Before he could finish, Emma spun around, the sharp tip of her knife glinting in the light as she pointed it toward him. Her eyes narrowed. "You doubted my cooking just because you’ve never seen me in the kitchen. Now you’ll see what you’ve provoked."
William immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! I take it back! I’m patiently waiting for the legendary chef to work her magic."
Satisfied, Emma huffed and turned back to the counter.
The kitchen filled with the aroma of sizzling vegetables and savory meat. She tossed the ingredients with precise timing, adding a dark sauce and a touch of lemon to balance the flavors. The smell alone was enough to make William’s stomach growl.
Once the meat was almost cooked, she drained the water, shredded it neatly with a knife and fork, then tossed it back into the pan with her special sauce. Every movement was graceful, controlled—almost like watching a performance.
She crisped the bread on the pan until it turned golden, then began layering the sandwich. First went the sauce, then the vegetables, then the meat. Finally, she pressed another slice of bread on top, cut it cleanly in half, and revealed the mouthwatering, saucy filling inside.
It looked like something straight out of a café menu.
Emma placed the plate in front of him with a silent, proud gesture.
William admired it for a moment, nodding in approval. "Ten out of ten for presentation," he said. "Now for the taste test."
He picked up one half, his eyes meeting hers. She didn’t look nervous at all—in fact, she looked confident, as if she already knew the result.
He took a bite.
For a brief second, his mind went blank. The flavor exploded in his mouth—savory, tangy, perfectly balanced. Each bite melted into the next, and all he could think about was how good it tasted.
He took another bite, slower this time, savoring it properly.
"This," he said between chews, "is something I could kill for." He looked up at her with genuine awe. "Amazing. Absolutely delicious."
Emma crossed her arms, hiding her pleased smile. "Told you so." she sat on the other chair, watching him devour the first half almost in seconds before he asked her,
"I...hope you aren’t hungry..." his hand was already approaching the second half.
Emma chuckled, "Not at all. You can have it."
William didn’t need to be told twice as he started munching on the second half.
The room was filled with a comfortable silence as the two enjoyed the morning. One with a delicious sandwich and one while watching the other.
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A/N:- Thanks for reading.