I was in the kitchen fixing up breakfast the next day. Kaden sat at the dining table, his eyes fixed on the newspaper in front of him, but I could feel his agitation from where I was.
I could practically see the frustration radiating off him as he tried in vain to focus, his attempts punctuated by the occasional slam of the paper onto the table followed by a grunt or a groan. Occasionally, I could feel his eyes on me but I didn't dare meet his gaze.
Instead, I focused on the task at hand and by the time I was done, I went over to the dining table to serve the meal. I poured the coffee into mugs and dished out the bacon and eggs; I knew better than to disturb him in such a state, so I moved with as much precision as I could muster.
With each clatter of utensils or clink of dishes, I winced, half-expecting Kaden's outburst to follow. But he said nothing.
I forced a smile. "Breakfast is served," I said softly, hoping to break the ice.