Daisy slowly opened her eyes. The room was filled with soft morning light, warm and gentle as it filtered through the curtains.
Turning to her right, she found it empty.
Not that she was hoping he’d sneak in and sleep beside her or anything, but... still.
She exhaled, quietly. The other side of the bed was untouched, no faint dip in the mattress, no residual warmth.
Last night, after drying her hair and stepping out of the dressing room, Elias had disappeared. She had looked around, brows lightly furrowed, and eventually asked one of the maids.
"Mr. Kingsley said to let you know you should rest first. He had something to do in the study," the maid explained with a small bow and that was all.
Daisy didn’t think much of it then, too tired to wonder what he was doing. But now, in the hush of morning, her thoughts wandered.
’Did he return at all?’
She rubbed at her eyes and pulled the covers off her legs, shaking the thoughts away. No point in dwelling. After all, this wasn’t her home. It wasn’t her bed. And it definitely wasn’t her man.
A sudden knock interrupted her thoughts.
She sat up straighter as the door opened slightly. A maid entered with a silver tray in hand, atop it a neatly folded dress and a small velvet pouch.
"Good morning, Miss," the maid said softly, placing the tray down on the nearby bench. "These are the clothes Mr. Kingsley asked to be prepared for you. He thought you might need something fresh to wear today, since you hadn’t picked anything yesterday."
"Oh," Daisy blinked. "Thank you."
But as the maid moved about, Daisy subtly craned her neck, eyes darting toward the open door behind her, clearly looking for someone.
The maid noticed. "Ah, Mr. Kingsley left for the office early this morning."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Why would he go to the office?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Ah—I meant... never mind." She smiled awkwardly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Thank you again."
The maid bowed slightly. "Should I start preparing your breakfast, Miss?"
"Oh," Daisy nodded, stepping down from the bed, "sure..." Then she paused, her eyes flicking toward the maid with a half-hopeful look. "Hmm... can I request something?"
"What is it, Miss?" the maid asked gently, her expression open and ready.
"Can I get a... vanilla milkshake?" Daisy asked hesitantly.
The maid’s smile brightened. "Of course, Miss. We’ve already prepared for all your preferences. If you’d like, we could also serve a slice of vanilla bean chiffon cake with it—it pairs quite well."
Daisy suddenly pouted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
The maid froze, panicking. "I’m sorry, Miss. Did I say something wrong? Would you prefer red velvet instead?"
She quickly shook her head. "No..." she murmured, taking a slow breath. "It’s just... I suddenly miss my dad."
Her voice wavered slightly as the memory surfaced—how her father would always ask the maid to bring her a slice of vanilla bean chiffon cake for breakfast, even when her mother disapproved.
"It’ll make her fat," her mother used to scoff, "and who would want to marry someone who doesn’t take care of her image?"
But her father would just chuckle and wave her off, placing the cake in front of Daisy anyway with a wink.
The maid, still a little flustered, bowed slightly. "I’ll have it brought to the dining room right away, Miss. Please take your time."
Daisy offered a small smile and nodded.
Once the maid left, the room fell into a hush again. She stood there for a second longer, brushing the corners of her eyes with her sleeve before exhaling softly. "Let’s freshen up!"
Downstairs, the soft clinking of cutlery and the faint aroma of warm bread greeted her. When she reached the dining table, she was met with a spread that looked like it had come out of a luxury brunch catalogue, freshly baked croissants, eggs cooked just right, cut seasonal fruits, and beside the glass of milkshake she’d requested, a perfectly plated slice of vanilla bean chiffon cake.
She blinked, then turned to the maid who stood nearby, ready to serve her.
"Is this... from Del’arôme?" she asked, naming the little upscale patisserie tucked in a quiet street in the city, one only true dessert lovers knew about.
The maid nodded with a pleasant smile. "Yes, Miss. Mr. Kingsley specifically requested their head pâtissier to prepare it for you this morning."
"Sorry?!" Daisy almost dropped her fork. "He what?"
The maid looked a little startled by her reaction but quickly added, "He left instructions last night. Said you might want something familiar for breakfast. So, he asked the pâtissier to bake it fresh and have it delivered early."
Daisy stared at the cake again. It was a perfect, fluffy texture, that unmistakable soft vanilla scent, the precise dusting of powdered sugar. Just like the one her father used to get her.
She didn’t know what to feel. Confused? Touched? Or maybe just... more confused.
"He did all that?" she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else.
The maid, mistaking her silence for disapproval, quickly said, "If you’d prefer something else—"
"No, no," Daisy shook her head, managing a small, unsure smile. "It’s just... a little unexpected."
And for some reason, her heart felt heavy instead of fluttered.
She poked her fork gently into the chiffon cake, watching the delicate crumbs fall apart.
’How did he know about my preference? My taste in food?’
She tried to think back—had she ever told him? Mentioned it in passing?
But it couldn’t be. She and Elias had only met properly two days ago. And the first time... it hadn’t even lasted a full day.
No way he could’ve known this.
No way he could’ve picked up on something so specific and personal.
Her fingers curled slightly around the fork.
She stared at the milkshake, titling her head slightly, "Is it Aurora?"