Elara sat in the dimly lit room, the air heavier than it should have been. A small, sterile needle lay on the table next to a vial, its gleaming metal catching the faint light from a nearby desk lamp. The faint smell of old wood mixed with something herbal filled the room, making it feel more like a ritual than a test. Phineas, Ben’s older brother, stood beside her, his expression cold and detached as he prepared the instruments. Levi lingered just outside the door, a silent shadow too close for comfort. Ben sat beside her, his hand resting on her knee as if to offer comfort, but his grip was firm—possessive.

“It’s just a simple test, Elara,” Ben whispered softly, his voice filled with reassurance. “Nothing to worry about. It’s part of our tradition. It’ll be over quickly.”

Elara forced a nervous smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She really didn’t like needles, and frankly, this wasn’t what she’d expected when they’d asked her to take another drug test. The one at the office had been a simple Q-tip swab. Surely, Ben trusted her enough to know this was unnecessary? They hadn’t been together long, but he knew her—knew she would never even consider using drugs.

It’s for their religious beliefs. It’s not a big deal, she thought, trying to calm her anxiety and steady her jittery legs. Ben’s grip tightened on her knee. “It’s gonna be alright,” he reassured her again, his voice soothing but firm. Elara tried to focus on Ben, taking in his handsome features, the golden tan of his skin though dimmed in the poor lighting, the beauty within his blue-hazel eyes and long lashes. This at least partially helped calm her nerves. Plus, she trusted Ben.

Even within this moment, Elara didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t do for him. No one had been there for her like he had been, and she greatly admired his work ethic, his demeanor, the way he stood up for himself, how well put together he was, she truly believed she lucked out.

Had her mother been alive still, she’d have accused Elara of making him up, or claimed someone like him deserved better than Elara. She grimaced at the thought, thinking of her mother, though unintentional, only brought her more anxiety.

Phineas wasn’t sure what to think of Elara, but he trusted Levi and Esther’s judgment more than his own. He hated keeping his doubts to himself. It felt wrong, but Ben had insisted they needed more time—to get her to conform before introducing her to their parents. They needed to find her replacement before the Cena Sacra, and before she could be presented to the family.

Phineas started pulling on gloves, his motions slow and deliberate. Though unsure about Elara, he took a quiet pleasure in her visible discomfort. It wasn’t personal, but seeing someone squirm like this filled him with a subtle thrill he couldn’t quite explain. When he was younger, he used to feel ashamed about those thoughts, but their father had assured him it was normal.

Elara watched anxiously as Phineas prepared the needle, bracing herself for the sharp sting. Unintentionally, she gripped Ben’s arm tighter, seeking comfort in his presence. She was relieved to be at Levi’s house instead of a doctor’s office or at work, which had been her first assumption. This house had an eerie feel, but at least her anxiety wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Still, Phineas was taking his time, and her nerves began to creep back. She wished he would just get it over with already. Something about him made her uneasy. He’d been polite enough when they met, but there was something… off. She couldn’t place it, but her gut told her to be wary.

“It’s just a simple test, Elara,” Ben whispered next to her, his hand resting on her knee. The warmth of his touch should have comforted her, but instead, it felt heavy. His grip tightened as Phineas finally approached with the needle. “It’s for your own good. You trust me, right?”

Phineas finally grabbed her arm, his touch surprisingly gentle. Elara squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Ben as the needle pierced her skin. The pinch wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated, but the discomfort lingered.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Ben asked as he took his hand off her knee and placed his arm around her, giving her a half hug. He wanted to kiss her badly, but he knew Levi and Phineas would strongly disapprove of him doing such a thing before marriage.

“I thought it was going to hurt more honestly” Elara said relieved, though feeling rather queasy seeing her blood in a vial, and knowing it was her blood. She was starting to feel a tad light-headed. Though Levi was not in the room, his presence made her uncomfortable, especially since the family dinner. Ben assured Elara that was just how Levi was, but even Esther made her feel uneasy.

Though given their closeness, she dared not mention this to Ben.

At least so far, Phineas seemed a bit more normal, more like Ben, but not nearly as charming. Elara presumed he must do this alot, which would make sense. Ben had mentioned to her that he was a doctor and a priest for their church, which amazed Elara. She figured it must’ve taken quite a bit of ambition for the amount of schooling that would take, at least she assumed. Elara wasn’t sure what their process looked like for one becoming a priest. She made a mental note to ask.

‘It was nice meeting you, Elara. I hope you and Ben have a good rest of your day off.” Phineas finally removed the gloves, turning to clean up the supplies. He didn’t say much, just gave her a brief nod before leaving the room. Ben remained by her side.

“I’m glad you’re okay with this,” Ben murmured, his fingers still lingering on her knee. “It’s just part of what we believe in. Purity. Trust. You trust me, right?”

Elara hesitated. Her heart said yes, but the knot in her stomach told her otherwise. “Of course,” she replied. She meant it, but she couldn’t help but wonder more about their religion, and about his family. Elara hoped this was as odd as it got. She loved Ben, and she knew he couldn’t choose his family, but she decided she would do everything she could to steer clear of Levi going forward, so long as she could help it.

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So far, the date Ben had taken Elara on had been absolutely wonderful, despite how small the town was. After the unsettling drug test, Ben suggested they stop by Living Bread to pick up ingredients for dinner. The store felt like a safe, familiar place for Ben, but Elara wasn’t sure she could handle it. Her nerves were still raw from the test, and now she was walking into a store during the busiest part of the day, filled with her day-shift coworkers.

As they walked down the fruit aisle, Elara glanced toward a male coworker wearing a black hat with the ‘Living Bread’ logo, stocking dark red apples at the end of the row. Before she could offer a wave, Ben leaned in, his tone light but purposeful. “We’re on a date, Elara. Let’s focus on us, okay?”

The words were gentle, but a flicker of concern washed over her. Had she done something wrong? Was she not supposed to wave to those she knew on a date? Trying to push down her confusion, she forced a smile.

As they pushed their cart through the brightly lit aisles, Elara couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious. It wasn’t just the crowd; it was the sudden attention. She wasn’t used to seeing her coworkers outside of her night shifts, and it felt as though every pair of eyes was on her and Ben. The tension in her chest tightened as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

While Elara’s mind buzzed with worries about what they were thinking, Ben seemed completely at ease, moving from aisle to aisle with the practiced confidence of someone who knew the store like the back of his hand. His mind was focused on the task at hand—buying food for them both. As he grabbed vegetables and tofu, he paused, looking at her with a serious expression.

“Ramen and hotdogs aren’t enough for you,” Ben said, dropping tofu into the cart without even asking. “I’m your boyfriend now. I’m making sure you eat properly.”

Elara blinked, not entirely sure how to respond. The way he had taken control of the grocery list, of their evening, felt both comforting and... slightly overwhelming. She tried to push the feeling down, smiling weakly.

At the checkout line, she recognized Diane, an older blonde, bubbly coworker who worked the day shift, standing near the registers. Diane’s green eyes lit up when she saw Elara and Ben together.

“Well, well, look who it is!” Diane exclaimed, walking over with a knowing grin. “So, the rumors are true? You two are an item now?”

Elara blushed, her hand instinctively gripping the grocery cart tighter. She hadn’t been prepared for this kind of attention, but before she could answer, Ben stepped in smoothly, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“That’s right,” Ben said, his voice low but confident. “Elara and I are together now.”

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Diane’s grin widened. “Good for you, Elara. Ben’s a keeper. I used to have him as my manager back when he worked the day shift. Everyone here liked him. Quiet, hard-working, and always looked out for us. You’re in good hands.”

Elara felt her heart race, the combination of Ben’s possessive arm around her and Diane’s casual praise making her feel oddly off-balance. But Ben didn’t seem to notice. He smiled at Diane, thanked her, and then took over paying for the groceries, his expression unreadable as he swiped his card.

As they left the store and stepped into the late afternoon sunlight, Elara’s mind was still spinning from the encounter with Diane. The street was quieter than she expected, the usual sounds of the small town feeling distant. Ben was walking slightly ahead of her, the grocery bags in his hands, as though he had already planned out the next steps of their evening.

The moment they arrived at Elara’s yellow house, Mrs. Whitmore, her landlord, was outside tending to her garden. Her silver hair glistened in the fading sun as she looked up with a warm smile, recognizing the two immediately.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite tenant and one of my favorite students,” Mrs. Whitmore said, her voice full of playful warmth.

Ben smiled back, though there was a hint of something darker behind his eyes. “Mrs. Whitmore,” he greeted, setting the bags down inside the house. “I’m sure you remember me.”

“Of course, I do!” Mrs. Whitmore laughed, her hands resting on her hips. “You were always the most well-behaved in class. I had all your brothers in school too, but you... you were different. I knew you’d turn out well.”

Elara glanced between them, surprised by how easily Mrs. Whitmore spoke of Ben’s past. He had never mentioned much about his childhood to her, though she hadn’t asked either. Mrs. Whitmore gave her a wink.

“And you, Elara, have been an absolute delight. Responsible, quiet—never a peep of trouble from you. I’m happy to see you two together.” She smiled, eyes twinkling. “Ben’s always been quite the catch.”

Elara’s cheeks flushed at the compliment. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitmore,” she said, her voice soft.

Mrs. Whitmore patted Ben’s arm. “You two take care now. And Ben, don’t be a stranger. Come visit more often, will you?”

As Mrs. Whitmore walked off, Ben turned to Elara with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be coming over more often, don’t worry.”

They carried the groceries inside, the weight of the day settling over Elara’s shoulders. She had expected the grocery trip to be stressful, but it was the quiet of the house that truly unsettled her now. Everything felt... too calm.

Ben moved into the kitchen, unpacking the bags with a kind of efficiency that made Elara feel like an outsider in her own home. As he took charge, chopping vegetables with precision and grace, Elara watched from the side, unsure of where to step in.

“You’re really good at this,” she commented, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Ben didn’t look up from the chopping board. “Appreciate it. I picked up some skills from my mom before her illness, and working late means I’ve been cooking for myself more often.”

His words, though casual, carried a weight she couldn’t quite place. There was something possessive in the way he moved, something almost... obsessive in how carefully he prepared the meal.

As they sat down to eat, the vegetarian spaghetti smelled incredible. The tofu sausage, browned to perfection, made Elara’s mouth water, but as she stared at the plate in front of her, a wave of sadness hit her like a punch to the gut.

This had been her father’s favorite dish. The one they used to make together before everything fell apart. She hadn’t even realized it when they were at the store, but now, seeing the meal laid out in front of her, those memories came flooding back.

Her father’s harsh words echoed in her mind. He had always blamed her, hadn’t he? Blamed her for everything that went wrong. The arguments about her being a burden, the way he made her feel small, worthless. She hadn’t touched spaghetti since he left, and now, sitting here with Ben, it felt like she was betraying herself by eating it.

Her throat tightened, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry—not now, not in front of Ben—but the emotions were too strong to suppress.

“Elara?” Ben’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and concerned. He reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing hers. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Elara wiped her eyes quickly, shaking her head. “No, it’s not you. It’s just... complicated. This was my dad’s favorite food. We used to make it together, but after he left... I haven’t had it since.”

Ben’s expression hardened, though he kept his voice soft. “I didn’t know.”

But he did know. He had found an old Facebook account belonging to her mother, hidden among years of disuse. He had scrolled through every post, every photo, piecing together the fragments of Elara’s life before she ever had the chance to tell him herself. He had chosen this meal deliberately, thinking it would bring them closer, thinking it would make her trust him more. But now, she was crying.

Not that he didn’t anticipate her crying, he’d seen the photos from her mothers facebook account of the father-daughter duo cooking spaghetti in their small but cozy looking kitchen. Ben knew her father had left her. However, while his initial plan was to use this as a way to comfort her and have her open up to him more, seeing her crying in person, at the moment, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, though the words felt hollow to him. He forced a smile, his fingers tightening just slightly around hers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Elara nodded, sniffling. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

Ben’s jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had planned this, gone over every detail in his mind countless times, but seeing her cry still twisted something inside him. He hated it.

Not because the plan hadn’t worked—because it had—but because he wasn’t prepared for how her tears would affect him.

He felt guilt.

“Do you want me to make something else?” he asked, his voice tighter now, a little more insistent than he intended.

“No,” Elara replied, her voice small. “You made this for me, and I do love spaghetti. I just didn’t expect it to bring up so many memories. I’m so sorry for crying.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Ben watched her closely as she picked up her fork, his eyes narrowing slightly. She didn’t know how much he had done for her, how much he had sacrificed to make sure this night was perfect.

Technically, everything had gone to plan, but he felt pangs of guilt. She had no idea how meticulously he had orchestrated this moment. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be crying right now. Her tears were his fault.

“You’re fine, really,” Ben reassured, his voice softening. “You have nothing to apologize for. Are you sure you’re okay with eating the spaghetti?”

Rather than verbally answering Ben, Elara placed a bite of the spaghetti in her mouth. Her eyes lit up as the flavors danced on her tongue—it tasted better than any spaghetti she’d ever had. “Mmm, Ben, this is amazing! Thank you!” she said, not waiting to finish chewing before digging in for another bite. The initial wave of bad memories began to fade, replaced with the comfort of something new, something better.

Still, one thing tugged at her thoughts—the tofu. As good as it was, it didn’t compare to the plant-based meat she’d eaten at Levi’s. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, craving it ever since that night. It was strange, almost unsettling, how much it lingered in her mind. This spaghetti was phenomenal, but that meat substitute was unforgettable.

“I can’t believe this is my favorite food again,” she added, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “Now I can enjoy it, thinking of you instead.” Her tone was lighter, more at ease. “But next time, you have to help me make it. I have to learn this recipe. It’s so good.”

Ben smiled, this time a real, unguarded smile. Relief and satisfaction washed over him. The plan had worked after all—better than he’d hoped. He still felt regret for making her cry, but, in the end, it seems it worked out, and seeing how much she loved his cooking filled him with joy.

Within his family, though it was not a religious belief, it was very looked down upon for a man to cook. It was seen as the woman’s job, but Ben had a passion for it, and he briefly imagined a future with the two of them, cooking together. His father never did this with his mother.

“You think you could also show me how to make the plant-based meat we had at Levi’s?” Elara asked, her voice soft but filled with curiosity. “Honestly, I’ve been craving it since.”

Ben’s smile widened, though his thoughts quickly shifted. That plant-based meat wasn’t something she could just make. He knew exactly why it had left such an impression on her, but for now, he simply nodded, his expression warm. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

After they finished eating, the rain had started falling heavily. Ben slipped out to his car, running through the downpour to retrieve a carefully wrapped brown package he had picked out just for her. The spaghetti had been planned to open her up emotionally, but this—this gift—was different. This was meant to bring her joy. He’d learned from hours of scouring her family’s social media accounts that Elara had once been passionate about drawing, a passion that seemed to fade after her father left.

So, he bought her a high-quality sketchbook and a set of professional sketching pencils, excited to see her reaction. Unlike the meal, this wasn’t about vulnerability—this was about making her happy.

“This is for you too, Elara,” Ben said as he stepped back inside, soaked from the rain. “A gift from my family.” He handed her the rectangular box wrapped in brown paper. “You struck me as the creative type, and I thought you might like this.”

Elara, having finished washing the dishes while Ben was outside, accepted the package with giddy excitement, wondering what it could be. They sat down together on the vibrant green couch in her small living room, the rain pattering softly against the windows.

As she tore open the paper, her breath caught when she saw the sketchbook. Conflicting emotions swirled in her chest. On one hand, she was thrilled. She had always loved to draw, but after her father left, it was something she’d lost. Her mother had never approved of her hobby, calling it a waste of time—something Ben somehow knew all too well. He could relate, which made the gift feel more intimate, something he would later reveal to Elara when the time felt right. But there was also a nagging unease she couldn’t shake. How did Ben know she liked drawing? And how had he known to make her favorite childhood food, spaghetti?

Elara brushed the thoughts aside, trying to dismiss them as overthinking. Ben was kind, handsome, hardworking—there was no way he could have known those things about her past. It had to be a coincidence, right? She was thrilled—but also unnerved. How did Ben know about her love for drawing? And why did the gift feel so perfectly tailored to a part of her past she'd never mentioned?

Still, as she gazed down at the sketchbook, a smile crept across her face. The unease faded into the background as they cuddled up on the couch and began talking for hours about art and drawing, bonding over their shared love for creativity. For now, the warmth of his attention and the thoughtful gift outweighed the small, unsettled feeling lingering in the back of her mind.