Mika, having executed his perfect exit, didn't immediately go to bed as he'd told them.
Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling with hunger.
Yelena's cooking was legendary, and there was no way he'd let her delicious spread go to waste. He piled plate after plate with her meticulously prepared dishes, savory roasts, creamy mashed potatoes, and fragrant herb-crusted vegetables, shoving mouthfuls into his face with unbridled enthusiasm.
His appetite was voracious, and by the time he was done, he'd devoured nearly 80% of the feast, leaving only a few scraps behind. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin, a contented grin spreading across his face.
With his hunger sated, Mika returned to his room, the house now quiet save for the faint hum of the evening. He lay on his bed in the darkened room, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling as his mind wandered.
