They sat at the dining table, sharing a rare, quiet breakfast together.


    "I heard there was good news fromst night''s tests,"n said, looking up at her. It was clear he was always the first to know what was happening at theb.


    Eleanor''s eyes brightened. "Yes, the results were even better than expected. We sessfully established a stable neural signal pathway—"


    She stopped mid-sentence.


    The man across from her had been listening intently, but now she''d gone silent. Was she stopping because she thought he wouldn''t understand?


    Eleanor pursed her lips. "It''s already considered a medical breakthrough."


    A hint of approval shed inn''s eyes.


    Eleanor''s expression grew a bit more serious. "However, the next steps are very risky. We need to imnt micro-electrodes in his brain, which is an extremely delicate surgery in itself."


    "With Principal Maxwell''s team, it should go smoothly," Ian reassured her.


    "Mm," Eleanor nodded and looked down, continuing to eat her oatmeal. She was clearly starving.


    "Eleanor," the man across from her said, his voice unusually deep. "Regardless of the oue, what you''ve already done is incredible."


    Eleanor paused, meeting his gaze before offering a polite, "Thank you."


    The only sound in the dining room for a moment was the soft clinking of utensils.


    When they finished, Eleanor started to clear the table, butn reached out. "I''ll get it. You rest."


    "It''s fine, I can do it," Eleanor said, reaching for the bowl in front of him just as his own hand moved toward it. Their fingers brushed against each other at the rim.


    Eleanor quickly pulled her hand back. Ian paused for a fraction of a second before smoothly taking the bowl from her.


    "I''ll clean up," he said, his tone insistent.


    Eleanor took the side dishes into the


    kitchen, wrapped them in stic and put them in the fridge.


    Meanwhile,n rolled up his shirt sleeves and stood at the sink washing the dishes.


    As Eleanor left the kitchen, she nced back instinctively and froze. She suddenly remembered years ago, when they were first married,n used to help in the kitchen like this. But as his work got busier and their daughter was born, scenes like this had vanished.


    The sound of the faucet stopped abruptly.


    Eleanor quickly snapped out of her thoughts and went upstairs. She still had to prepare materials for the afternoon meeting.


    She worked until noon beforeing back downstairs, assumingn would have left. But he was still in the living room, though he''d swapped the file for an iPad.


    Hearing her footsteps, he looked up. "Finished with work? Let''s get some lunch."


    "That''s okay, I have a meeting at theb this afternoon. I''ll just grab something at the cafeteria," Eleanor said.


    "As it happens, I need to attend that meeting too. Let''s go to theb together,"n said in a low voice.


    Eleanor remembered that the Neural Interface Project was, at its core, one of hispany''s ventures. As the head of thepany, it made sense for him to be there.


    "In that case, let''s not eat at the cafeteria. We can go to a restaurant, and then head to theb together," Eleanor suggested. "My treat."


    "If you''re busy, just forget I said anything," Eleanor replied. She had intended it as a thank you for getting the equipment for Mansfield, but she realized a single meat couldn''t repay that kind of favor. That would be up to the Ellington family.


    "I''m not busy,"n said, a slight smile touching his lips.