Chapter 111: Celebration food

With that gladness still sitting in his chest, Tom decided not to waste the mood.

The exercise was no longer useful at this moment. He rolled his shoulders once, and walked over to the mirror.

True to the system promise, it only took a little effort for a huge transformation to show on his body. The body looking back at him was no longer the soft, uncertain frame he used to avoid looking at too long.

The lines on his stomach was firmer than it was yesterday, more attractive.

He gave a small smile at the sight, pleased in a quiet way, then headed into the bathroom.

The shower washed the afternoon tension off him properly. By the time he stepped out and dried off, the remaining pressure from Adrian had evaporated completely. He dressed without rushing, humming under his breath as he pulled on casual clothes. He had decided that today was worth marking. Not loudly by the way, just properly.

And to do that, he was going to the market...

When he left the room and passed through the living room, Sienna was no longer there. That suited him fine. He stepped out of the house, and got into the car with a clearer head than he had carried in days.

A few minutes later, he had parked near a busy local market on the end of the neighborhood.

The idea was to get fresh produce, no need for sophisticated supermarket aisles when he already knew what he wanted. As he walked toward the stalls and open displays, Tom made a small internal decision. He wanted to see how far he had come; not in a fight, not in a bedroom, but in an ordinary public place where presence alone did the work.

He did not open his mouth, he simply stopped carrying himself like a man used to being overlooked. He switched on the things he had in his disposal and the effect showed almost immediately.

A woman arranging citrus looked up as he approached, her eyes flicking over him with open interest before she smiled too quickly but pleasantly.

"You’re looking for something special?" the citrus seller asked, voice warmer than the question needed. "I can help you pick." Tom smiled back politely but shook his head.

At the next stall, a vendor who had been mid-conversation with another customer let the words trail off and turned fully toward Tom instead. Someone else shifted aside without being asked, giving him space at a butcher counter as if it were the natural order of things.

Further down, another woman leaned slightly over her display when he paused near the root vegetables. "Fresh stock just came in. You’ll want the good ones. Let me show you."

And like that, people were seeing him, softening toward him, offering better cuts of service without knowing exactly why they were doing it. Tom felt the difference clearly. Charm opened the smiles, authority made people yield space and dominance sat under both, quiet and effective, turning an ordinary market run into a small demonstration of how much he had changed.

At the vegetable stall, the woman smiled warmly at him;

"Handsome man like you walking around alone, buying his own groceries," she said. "You married?"

Tom’s mouth curved. "Why?"

"Because if you’re not, I have a daughter. She’s a doctor. Very pretty. Serious girl." She raised a brow when he saw that Tom was only smiling. "You should think about it."

"Okay, ma’am, I’ll think about it," Tom said, amused enough to let the comment stand.

He got the vegetables he needed then moved through the rest of the market with that same ease, collecting what he needed, answering the lighter remarks where they came, and leaving more than one pair of eyes following him when he walked on.

By the time he returned to the car with his bags, the good mood had only deepened. Growth looked different in places like this. Less dramatic, but absolutely satisfying.

~~~~~~~~~~

When he got back home, Tom went straight to the kitchen.

The housekeeper was already there, and with her was the new staff. The younger woman’s eyes brightened the moment he entered, a quick unguarded twinkle in her eyes before she schooled her expression into an appropriate look. Her greeting came respectfully sharp;

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Afternoon," Tom returned.

The housekeeper wiped her hands on a cloth and nodded toward the bags. "Do you need help with anything?"

"No," Tom said. "I’ve got it."

The housekeeper accepted that with a short nod and turned to finish what she had been doing before leaving the kitchen. Only after she was gone did the new staff who was still lingering around, cleared her throat behind.

Tom glanced briefly behind him and saw she was standing a little closer than necessary. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

When she spoke, her voice had softened into a warmer tone.

"I can help you with whatever you need. Whatever at all..." she said, dragging out the last part to make an effect.

Tom looked at her fully then. The offer was clear enough without being stupidly blunt. Lewd Interest sat under the politeness, carefully presented.

"I don’t need help right now, If I do, I’ll let you know." he replied calmly.

She held his gaze for a second longer, then smiled slightly. "Should I stay around then? In case you need something later."

Tom gave a small nod. "If you want."

"Alright." Her voice dipped with excitement at his agreement, although still careful. "It’s Aria, by the way. In case you need me."

"Aria. Alright." Tom repeated, without turning to look at her.

Her name rolling out of his tongue seemed to please her more than the permission itself. She settled near the side counter, not intrusive enough to block him, not distant enough to pretend disinterest, while Tom unpacked the bags and began arranging what he needed.

Sweet potatoes, ground meat, baby carrot, butter and brown sugar...

The sight of them alone pulled old memory forward. This was the meal his mother used to make when there was something to mark, be it birthdays, good grades, days worth remembering. Mashed sweet potatoes, meatloaf and baby carrots sautéed in butter with a little brown sugar until they glazed.

It was a celebration food for his household while growing up.

Tom washed his hands, rolled his sleeves up, and set to work with a focus that felt almost comforting. He peeled and set the sweet potatoes to boil, mixed the meat, shaped the loaf, and kept the carrots waiting for their turn in the pan. The scent began to spread around the big kitchen.

For a while, there was no timer, nothing like a mess waiting in the city. Just the quiet pleasure of making something that belonged to better days.

Behind him, Aria remained where she was.

Her eyes followed the movement of his arms, the shift of his shoulders under the casual shirt, the easy concentration on his face as he worked. After a moment, her tongue passed slowly over her lower lip, the gesture was slow and openly hungry.

Tom noticed it from the corner of his vision and kept cooking anyway. He did not have time for that kind of invitation right now. The food needed him more than her attention did.

Aria’s fingers curled lightly against the edge of the counter.

She wanted to touch him so badly.