Talk To Her
Her reluctance to eat his mother’s meal was becoming increasingly evident, and Thad couldn’t shake off his concern. “Annie,” he began gently, reaching out to touch her hand, “is everything okay? You haven’t really touched your food.”
Annie looked up, her eyes meeting Thad’s, but she quickly looked away. “I’m just not very hungry,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her answer felt vague, like a thin veil hiding something more profound. “But you used to love my mom’s cooking,” Thad said, his worry deepening. “You always said her dishes reminded you of home.”