Emma's POV

　　The next morning, I yawn and stretch, feeling the fatigue weighing heavy on my shoulders. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night, my mind consumed with thoughts of Ava. As I unconsciously step into the dining room, Charlotte runs towards me and hugs my legs.

　　My gaze shifts to the dining table, and I see Matthew sitting there, staring at me.

　　"Uh, I can eat in the mess." I hesitate, unsure if I should accept. Eating breakfast with the Alpha and his sister feels like a big deal, especially when it's Matthew.

　　But before I can decline, Charlotte insists, "Come on, Emma! We want you to join us."

　　Matthew doesn't object, instead pulling out a chair for me. "Sit down, Emma," he says, his tone calm and welcoming.

　　Feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity, I take a seat beside them, unsure of what to expect. As I glance at the array of dishes laid out before us, I can't help but feel overwhelmed. "Geez, there's enough food here to feed a small army," I remark, my voice tinged with surprise.

　　Matthew nods, his expression serious. "Shifters need to eat a lot," he explains. "Protein and carbs help increase our strength. You should eat more too, Emma."

　　His words strike a nerve, and I can't help but feel a twinge of offense. Is he insinuating that I'm weak because of my slender frame? Before I can stop myself, a sarcastic retort slips from my lips. "Yeah, sure. Because nothing says 'strong' like an extra serving of pancakes," I quip, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

　　Matthew's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back in his chair. "Don't worry, Emma. I don't think you'll get fat from eating a little extra," he teases, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Since you are already fat."

　　I gasp, "Oh, you did not!" How dare he call me fat? This guy seriously needs a crash course on how to speak properly to a lady.

　　Charlotte giggles while Matthew raises his hand defensively, "Chill, Emma. It's just a joke," he reassures me, his tone light.

　　I roll my eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in my expression. "I'm perfectly calm," I insist, trying to keep a straight face.

　　Matthew raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You look like you'll stab me with those knives," he teases, gesturing towards the utensils on the table.

　　I can't help but smirk at his comment. "Well, you never know," I reply, playing along while crossing my arms . "I might consider it."

　　Matthew feigns mock concern, holding up a plate as if to defend himself. "In that case, I'll have to use these plates as a shield," he jokes, a playful smile on his lips. He looks so good when he smiles.

　　Charlotte squeals with delight, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Cutlery battle!" she exclaims, clapping her hands in glee.

　　Before I know it, we're all laughing together, the tension of earlier dissipating into the air.

　　As I take a bite of the breakfast spread before me, I'm pleasantly surprised by how delicious it tastes, even if it's just something as simple as scrambled eggs and toast. "Wow, this is amazing," I exclaim, my taste buds tingling with delight.

　　Matthew nods in agreement, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. "The chef does a great job," he remarks, his tone appreciative.

　　Feeling the need to express my gratitude, I turn to the older gentleman who had stepped out of the kitchen. "I need to thank the chef for this. It's too good," I say earnestly.

　　The man, whose name I learn is Steve, chuckles warmly. "Well, I'm glad you like it, young lady," he replies, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

　　In a moment of jest, I feel the urge to exaggerate my appreciation. "I might even kiss your hand for making such delicious dishes," I joke, a playful grin on my lips.

　　Steve laughs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I'll hold you to that," he quips back, his tone light and flirtatious.

　　Before I can say anything else, Matthew clears his throat, and I detect a hint of irritation in his voice. "Steve, bring me another sandwich," he orders, his tone brusque.

　　Steve nods obediently and hurries back into the kitchen, leaving me feeling slightly puzzled by Matthew's abrupt change in demeanor. Steve seemed like a genuinely nice man, and his cooking was undeniably delicious. It made me wonder why Matthew had acted so rudely towards him, especially considering how much he seemed to enjoy the food.

　　Back in my own pack, we had a personal chef too, but his cooking lacked the passion and effort that Steve clearly put into his dishes. It was a stark contrast, and it left me feeling even more appreciative of the culinary delights laid out before me.

　　"Emma seems to like men who can cook," Charlotte remarks with a teasing smile.

　　I chuckle at her comment, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Of course! Men who can cook are perfect husband material," I reply with a grin, my tone light and playful.

　　But before I can dwell on the conversation any further, Matthew suddenly interjects with a serious tone. "Would you like a guy if he's good at cooking?" he asks, his gaze fixed on me.

　　I furrow my brow in confusion, wondering why he's asking such a random question. "Um, yeah, I guess," I reply tentatively, feeling a bit thrown off by his seriousness. "It certainly wouldn't hurt. A man who can cook is definitely more attractive," I add, trying to lighten the mood.

　　Matthew simply nods in response. "I see," he says quietly, and we resume our meal in silence.