The question hung in the air like steam above a pan.
"Wait… what do you mean the problem with Elliot is over?" Celeste asked. Her tone was sharper than she meant. Her hand trembled slightly, though she pretended not to notice.
Franz didn't look up from the stove.
"Ask your mother," he said casually, flipping an egg with one hand.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Then, after a beat, Celeste nodded. "Right… Sorry. I should be thanking you. You saved her life, and I'm here questioning you."
Franz glanced back. "It's okay. You were just worried."
Franz ignored the remark. But the grateful look on Celeste's face lingered.
"Come on," he said, jerking his chin toward the others. "Food'll be ready in a bit."
Celeste moved quietly to the counter and sat.
Franz resumed cooking.
Then, under his breath—almost without thinking—he started humming.
"Love me, love me… say that you love me…"
