(Author's POV)
"Elio, dear, why are you eating so little? Are the dishes not to your liking? Should I make something else?" Sandra asked, concernedly. He has been absentmindedly picking at the food on his plate. His eyes kept drifting towards Myra, every now and then.
"Oh no, ma'am. Everything tastes so good. Even the Michelin chefs cannot make such delicacies," Elio praised, trying to sound cheerful. "Especially these quesadilla rings are amazing. The hint of ginger you put in it is making it more flavorful and aromatic."
"You will have to thank your Uncle William for that. He is the one who made those," Sandra said, her eyes shining with nothing but pride for her husband.
"Ohhh, really? Sir, it is really delicious. I think your whole family is full of chefs," he said in a playful tone.
