Tarquin, freshly showered, immediately noticed the bustling figure in the kitchen.


    Hair tied in a casual, low ponytail, an apron wrapped around her waist, and slippers on her feet, she gently stirred a pot with a wooden spoon, embodying the essence of a tender-hearted spouse.


    A wave of warmth flooded Tarquin''s heart. Drying his hair, he draped the towel around his neck and strode into the kitchen with his long legs. Wrapping his arms around Elysia from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, he asked, "What''s got you cooking at this hour?"


    Elysia turned to peck his cheek, yfully teasing, "Whipping up something special for my hubby. Hope he''s willing to give it a taste?" Overjoyed, Tarquin hugged her tighter and returned the kiss, "If it''s made by my wife, of course, I''ll have it."


    With a giggle, Elysia served up the dish.


    Concerned she might burn herself, Tarquin took the te and headed to the dining room.


    Sitting opposite each other, one savored the meal while the other watched.


    Leaning on one hand, Elysia initiated conversation, “What''s in that box you brought back?"


    Tarquin had returned with arge box earlier.


    ncing at it, a fleeting shadow crossed his eyes. Without mentioning Keith''s name, he said, "Just some personal collectibles. You know psychology; I thought maybe you could help figure out the collector''s interests and habits."


    "I''ll take a look." Elysia stood and opened the box.


    Picking up a painting, she nced at it and said, "This person is hopeful about the future."


    Tarquin frowned, "Hopeful about the future?"


    Could Keith, with his dark psyche, really harbor hope for the future?


    Elysia confidently nodded, "Look at this painting, endless fields of wheat, symbolizing hope. Whoever owns this painting must be filled with hope for the future."


    Tarquin, deep in thought with a stern face, remained silent.


    Unaware these items belonged to Keith, Elysia didn''t dwell on it and set the painting aside, picking up an hourss next,


    "An hourss, a device to measure the passage of time, symbolizing its fleeting nature. It''s typically cherished by those nostalgic for the past. I guess its owner is someone with a story."


    Tarquin just listened.


    After cing the hourss aside, Elysia picked up a sketch,


    "A work in progress, capturing only the figure and long hair, with iplete facial features... The subject must be a beautiful woman, yet the eyes are left undrawn, indicating he misses her yet can''t face her."


    Tarquin, having finished his meal, wiped his mouth with a napkin and approached, "What do you mean?"


    Elysia pondered, "There''s definitely a woman on his mind, but for some reason, he''s avoiding her. Perhaps he feels guilty for something, or maybe she wronged him, causing anger or sorrow. Either way, he longs for her but also deliberately avoids facing her."


    Tarquin questioned, "A woman, not a daughter?"


    Elysia paused, “Hard to say without knowing the artist''s age."


    "If he''s about our age?"


    "Then it''s definitely a woman, not his daughter. Look at the figure; it''s not a child''s. Someone our age couldn''t have a daughter that grown." Tarquin pondered, "So, what''s her rtion to him?"


    Elysia countered, "Do we know if these items belong to a man or a woman?"