"Why are you doing all this? In this way? Your whole life is devoted to this... you could die from it."
She frowned, falling back in her seat a little. "Well... no, I just... I don't know. I was just asking..."
He went to the sink, washing the pan. "I don't like talking about it," he said, his voice stiff. A deep sigh escaped him. "My parents were operatives under CWJ. I never knew them that well because they kept the children away and taught under specific people. Living under CWJ was abusive. My parents were killed during the liberation. I didn't have any real connection to them, so going into the foster system was easy."
She watched his back, her expression stricken. She finally stood up, coming over to him and putting a hand on his back. "Abel... I'm so sorry."
"I suppose I would have told you eventually," he said, going back to his plate. "Might as well get it over with."
"That doesn't matter," she replied, waving him off. "You haven't made me upset recently. I've made you upset, so I need to make the next meal."
