My Promdi Wife
Yet she looked at me as though the idea had never occurred to her.
She lowered the ladle into the pot before speaking again, her voice quieter than before.
"Alam mo, Winston, palaging sinasabi ng papa ko..." She smiled faintly, though there was unmistakable fondness in her eyes. "...food tastes better when it's shared."
A gentle silence settled over the kitchen. No one spoke, not because they were intimidated by my presence. But because every person inside that room seemed to understand the meaning behind those words.
Chef Roberto quietly cleared his throat and busied himself arranging the ingredients on the counter.