You nod eagerly, cheeks puffed out as you chew the last bite of your second pastry. Lydia chuckles, her laughter rich and velvety, as she sets another down in front of you.
Without hesitation, you reach for it, the buttery, flaky crust still warm between your fingers. It melts on your tongue, the sweetness almost overwhelming, but you don’t stop. Each bite feels more necessary than the last, like you’ve never truly appreciated food until now.
Lydia hums approvingly, slicing another as soon as you finish. “Such a good eater,” she coos, placing yet another pastry before you.
You barely register the words, too lost in the indulgence. The scent, the taste, the warmth filling your belly, it’s intoxicating. Your hands move on their own, grabbing the next one, then another. You should be embarrassed, but you aren’t. Lydia keeps offering, and you keep accepting.
Your chair creaks softly beneath you, but the sound doesn’t register. Your focus is on the food, on the pleasure of every mouthful. The once modest brunch turns into a feast, Lydia refilling your plate without pause.
It’s only when you lean back with a satisfied sigh that you realize how full you are. A comforting weight settles over you, warmth lingering in your limbs. Lydia watches you with a pleased expression, her eyes scanning you up and down like she’s taking note of something.
“Wonderful, dear,” she says, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “You’ve made me very happy today.”
You smile sleepily, barely noticing the way your sleeves feel a little snugger around your arms.
Lydia stands and moves behind you, resting her soft hands on your shoulders. “I do love taking care of my sweet ones. And you are just perfect for it.”
Her fingers press into your shoulders lightly before she steps away, retrieving yet another plate.
“Now, how about dessert?”