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By the time we finally sat down for our meal, I was already feeling sluggish, like my limbs weighed a bit more than usual. Normally, I'd be halfway through my food by now, but the inviting aroma of pancakes, sweet and buttery...barely stirred my appetite. I tried to look composed, poking at the stack on my plate while Adrien poured syrup over his pancakes like he didn't know what 'portion control' meant.
He picked up on it, of course. He always did, especially when I wished he wouldn't. "You're not inhaling your food as usual," he said, leaning back in his chair, fork halfway to his mouth. "You okay?"
I forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just not really hungry."
He shot me a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised. "And you look pale," he remarked. "Like, ghost-level pale."
I scoffed and took another bite, trying to prove him wrong, though chewing felt like a chore. "I said I'm fine, Doctor Fell."
