Chapter 362: Chapter 361: Turning Into Ghost

By the time the second round of dishes arrived... spiced skewers still sizzling, a towering plate of pasta twirled into neat nests, and a rainbow-colored salad that looked almost too pretty to eat... the table had officially transformed into a festival. It may seem like lots of food, but mind you this is what you’d call a posh restaurant so the size of dishes was simply miserable, not top level miserable but still miserable.

Sophie was halfway through her third dish when she pointed her fork dramatically across the table. "Okay, listen up. If I ever disappear mysteriously, don’t bother looking for me. Just check the kitchen of this place. I’ll be living here as a ghost, haunting the desserts."

Hnnah replied with a deadpan face, "I don’t think the chefs would tolerate a ghost that eats more than it scares."

"Rude! I’d be the cutest foodie ghost ever." Sophie puffed out her cheeks, then turned to Rex with pleading eyes that seemed to say. "Back me up here."

Rex didn’t even look up from slicing into a steak. "If you haunt the desserts, I’m changing restaurants. If you turn to ratatouille, I may reconsider, but ghosts are just pain useless.

"Traitor!" Sophie slapped the table, nearly knocking over her drink.

Hannah reached out calmly, steadying the glass before it toppled. "If anyone’s going to haunt a restaurant, it would probably be Elara. Quiet, barely noticeable... she could pull it off perfectly."

Elara, mid-bite of soup, choked. "W-wha—me?!" Her ears turned bright red as she waved her hands frantically. "I-I don’t—!"

Sophie burst out laughing so hard she nearly slipped from her seat. "Oh my god, she’s right! Elara would be the softest, most polite ghost ever. Like, ’boo... if that’s okay with you...’" She mimed a shy little wave, voice pitched tiny.

Even Daisy’s lips twitched, though she covered it with her hand. "I can actually imagine it."

Elara sank into her seat, hiding behind her bangs, her cheeks blazing, but there was the tiniest upward curve to her lips.

Rex shook his head, amused, and pushed the plate of meat closer to her side again without comment. She accepted one shyly, fingers brushing the edge of the plate as if it was something sacred.

For her, every bite still carried a weight no one else felt.The sear of fat against flame, the smoky char clinging to tender flesh, the deep umami that lingered long after the bite... flavors so primal and vivid for everyone else, yet almost alien to her. She savored each taste slowly, afraid to rush, afraid it might vanish if she wasn’t careful.

The noise of Sophie’s antics, Daisy’s sharp quips, Hannah’s cool corrections... all of it wrapped around her like a blanket she hadn’t realized she’d missed all the time. It was messy, loud, even a little embarrassing at times... but it was also warm. Like family dinners she thought she’d lost forever.

And though she kept her head bowed, bangs shadowing her eyes, a faint smile lingered on her lips, betraying her secret.

Rex noticed. But he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he leaned back as another wave of dishes arrived, the waiter straining slightly under the load. The man set them down with forced cheer, but Rex caught the envy in his eyes, the flicker at the corner of his mouth when he glanced at the table full of girls laughing and bickering around him.

...

When the main course finally settled, conversation slowed into that comfortable lull where people leaned back in their chairs, satisfied. The waiter returned with dessert menus, but before anyone could open them, Sophie drummed her nails on the table, she leaned forward, eyes glittering with mischief.

"Okay, hear me out," she said, tapping the dessert menu like it contained state secrets. "We order all of them . Every. Single. One."

Rex raised a brow. "That’s not ordering dessert, that’s declaring war on the pastry chef."

"I’m in," Sophie said immediately, because chaos was her natural language.

Hannah, predictably, leaned back with arms crossed. "No, absolutely not. We don’t need eight kinds of sugar and regret. This is why civilized societies invented the concept of choosing."

"Civilized societies are boring," Sophie shot back, grinning.

While they bickered, Daisy said nothing. She was watching Rex instead... subtly, the way someone might study an interesting puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. The others sparred so easily with him, but Daisy preferred quiet observation. Sometimes, she thought, you could learn more about a person by noticing what they didn’t say when everyone else was loud.

Elara’s gaze drifted again, but softer this time. The glow of candlelight, the easy rhythm of laughter... it was the kind of night she’d never dared imagine back when days blurred into survival. Moments like this made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, she was allowed to have a future that wasn’t weighed down by the past.

The waiter returned, pen ready. Hannah gave him a pleading look. "Just one dessert platter, please. Something normal."

Sophie snatched the menu from him before he could leave. "And also your chef’s special. And the soufflé. Oh, and the chocolate tower thing."

The poor man blinked between them like he’d wandered into a hostage negotiation. Rex finally clapped him on the shoulder. "Don’t worry, just bring whatever keeps the peace. And maybe an extra bill folder for when Sophie has to pay for her crimes."

Dessert arrived in polished plates, sugar dusted like art, and soon the table dissolved into another round of playful skirmishes. Sophie tried to swipe bites from everyone else’s plates, Hannah kept fencing her off with surgical precision, Daisy surrendered hers early, and Elara laughed quietly into her hand watching it unfold.

By the time it all settled, Sophie slumped back with a victorious sigh, Hannah muttered darkly about gym memberships, Daisy still watched Rex out of the corner of her eye, and Elara smiled faintly to herself. Tonight hadn’t been about food, not really. It had been about belonging.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a place at the table.

(End of Chapter)