Jenna Roland carefully packed the steaming dishes into an insulated container, her movements as gentle as if handling a precious gift.

Ethan Roscente sat at the dining table, his gaze following her every motion.

"Eat first," Jenna said, securing the last lid before finally taking her seat across from him.

They finished dinner in comfortable silence. Jenna stood to clear the dishes.

"Your turn to wash up today." She waved the insulated container at him. "I need to deliver this."

Ethan's eyes lingered on the container, his throat bobbing. A pang of jealousy struck him toward whoever would receive her home-cooked meal.

"Alright." He accepted the dishes, watching her leave.

The orchard lights glowed warmly against the night. Jenna handed the container to the night-shift workers, turning away before they could thank her.

The rural nightscape caught her attention in the parking lot. Distant mountain silhouettes melted into the star-studded sky.

She snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Ethan.

"The air's wonderful here. Want to take a walk together sometime?"

Her phone buzzed almost instantly. His reply was characteristically blunt: "Too many mosquitoes."

Jenna chuckled, starting the car for home.

Ethan sat blankly before the TV when she returned. At the sound of the door, he immediately turned.

"Join me?" He gestured to the screen.

Jenna glanced at the melodramatic soap opera playing and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"I'm showering." She marched past him without a second look.

Ethan shrugged, then remembered something. He rummaged through the TV cabinet drawer, emerging with a bag of potato chips.

The crisp rustle of the bag opening filled the room. He tentatively tried one chip—then his eyes lit up.

When Jenna stepped out with damp hair, the scene froze her in place.

Four empty chip bags littered the coffee table. Ethan was licking his fingers with relish.

"I thought you called this junk food?" Jenna pointed accusingly at the evidence.

Ethan maintained perfect innocence. "Tastes better than expected."

"Four bags! You ate four bags!" Her voice climbed an octave. "You had three bowls of rice two hours ago!"

Rubbing his rounded stomach, Ethan declared with absolute conviction: "Stomachs are like balloons—there's always room for good food."

The man who'd once scorned snacks was now making excuses for potato chips. Jenna facepalmed, torn between laughter and exasperation.