Forgiven

Callie drifted in and out of a dream-laden slumber, the ebb and flow of consciousness gently pulling her into the waking world. The enticing fragrance of chicken soup teased her senses, coaxing her from the depths of sleep. Elias had returned, a culinary saviour armed with a thermos of steaming chicken soup. ‘I used the mess hall kitchen to make this for you,’ he announced with a quiet pride. Drawing in a deep breath, Callie’s stomach couldn’t contain its eagerness, emitting a low growl that echoed through the room. ‘Callie, tell me, what’s that sound?’ His question, though not a direct accusation, draped her in a blanket of embarrassment. ‘Ahem!’ Callie, determined to maintain her composure, responded with a feigned nonchalance. ‘I didn’t hear any sound,’ she declared, though the rumblings from her stomach suggested otherwise. She fought to suppress the impending growl, hoping Elias wouldn’t witness this audible betrayal. ‘No sound?’ Elias’s raised brow and assertive tone exposed her