"43"

“Wow, this is delicious!”

Ahbaya’s expression was unreadable because it contained nothing but a half smile and wide eyes. She came to my room just when I finished cooking my meal. It was rude so I asked her to join in.

“Thanks.”

“How old were you when you learned how to cook?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been alone since my sister got married —” I frowned upon remembering those times, “ — so I’d say a few years ago.”

“Amazing.”

I scoffed. “It’s not.”

“Seriously it is! You’re a good cook. If only I knew you were this good of a cook, I would’ve asked you to cook then fuck me a bit later,” she patted her flat stomach. “You know, after the food’s gone down.”

A giggle escaped my mouth. “At least I’d be doing something for you that I actually enjoy.”

I heard Ahbaya’s fork clink against her plate. I looked up and she was staring at me again, except this time, there was no smile on her face, but I could tell that she was amused. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I enjoy cooking.”