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So you'd think that something that smelled so delicious would be a colorful and an amazing kind of food to eat.

Yeah, I thought so too. Until I was served a colorful soup for cold and rice, plain white rice.

“It's something my mother used to make for us when we were little,” he explained as he dropped another bowl of our late-night soup slash dinner on the table.

“Us?” I wondered aloud.

“My brothers and I,” he replied and sat.

I've never heard of his brothers, but I didn't push it, same as the reason he was here and why he has been ignoring me. I didn't want to ruin the lovely mood in the air by asking questions that could backfire if I or he said the wrong sentence or word.

After we finished eating, Victor cleared the table and washed the dishes, humming softly to himself as he worked. I watched him from the kitchen doorway, feeling a blanket of peace wash over me.

As he dried his hands on a towel, he turned to me with a smile. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He asked.

I