The last crumb of the cranberry chutney was gone, leaving only a smear of sweetness on the artisanal ceramic plate. Amara let out a long, unrefined sigh of contentment, leaning back into the plush leather of the booth. She found herself subconsciously rubbing her stomach, a habit from their childhood when they'd managed to snag an extra dessert from the orphanage kitchen.
"I'm officially a puddle, Hansen," she laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I mean, seriously. If this is how you feed all your customers, you're going to need bigger chairs. I'm so proud of you. Seeing you here, running this whole show... It's like seeing a different person, but in the best way possible. You're a real-deal entrepreneur now."
