Gideon watched the storm of emotions in her eyes for a moment before steering things in another direction.
"You should eat something first." He reached for the tray he had brought earlier and placed it in front of her.
The breakfast was simple—golden scrambled eggs, buttered toast cut neatly in half, crispy bacon. A small bowl of fresh fruits sat beside a glass of warm milk and a cup of brewed coffee.
"I kept it light," he added.
Without giving her much room to refuse, he picked up a piece of toast, spread a bit of scrambled egg over it, and held it near her lips.
"Eat."
Summer paused briefly but didn't argue. She leaned forward and took a bite.
He continued feeding her, patient and attentive.
Her eyes never left his face. She could see his effort, his care, and the quiet determination to fix what had been broken.
He wasn't asking for forgiveness. He was trying to earn it, to make up for the lost years, and to rebuild something that had once meant everything to them.
