My Romance Life System
Chapter 95: Cooking

Chapter 95: Cooking

"That sounds good. We can go to the convenience store and get the ingredients."

She shook her head, her gaze drifting to the window. The sky outside was already turning a deep, dark blue.

"No. It is getting late." She looked over at the shopping bags they had left by the door. "We can just use what we have."

He nodded again.

’Right, it is getting dark.’

He had not even considered the time. His mind was still processing the events of the day. He walked to the kitchen and looked at the grocery bags on the counter. Chicken, onions, carrots...

’But do I have curry roux?’

He rummaged through one of the bags. He did not.

’Crap. I should have bought some.’

He felt a little stupid. She was being more practical than he was.

He started to follow her into the kitchen. "I can help."

She turned, her expression suddenly serious. She held up a hand, a small, quiet gesture that stopped him completely.

"No." Her voice was soft but firm. "This is my way of... repaying you."

’Repaying me?’

He felt a pang of discomfort. He was not doing this for repayment. He did not want her to feel like she owed him anything. But he saw the look in her eyes. It was not about him. It was about her.

This was her way of taking back a small piece of her own life, of not being just a charity case. To argue would be to take that away from her. He understood.

"Just... sit," she added, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Watch some TV."

He gave a small nod and walked away.

He sat down on the couch, picking up the remote and turning on the television, which was now a source of noise in the apartment.

’This is so weird, I’m just sitting here in my own living room like a guest, waiting for a girl I barely know to make me dinner.’

From the kitchen came the sounds of her starting her work.

’Okay, the onion first, just like she taught me, I have to chop it finely, and I can’t cry, I absolutely cannot cry over an onion right now.’ She was really deep in her zone.

He found he could not pay attention to the movie on the screen, his focus entirely on the activity happening just a few feet away.

’She seems to know what she is doing, it all sounds so normal, so much like a real house instead of just an empty apartment.’

A quiet voice eventually called out from the kitchen, cutting through the television’s manufactured drama.

"It’s ready."

He turned off the set, the sudden absence of noise making the apartment feel very small as he stood up and walked to the dining table. Thea came out from the kitchen, holding two bowls with a careful, almost reverent concentration, and placed one at his seat before setting the other at her own, her eyes never meeting his.

’Please let it be good, please let him like it, I don’t know what I’ll do if he hates it.’

’She made this for me, after everything that happened, this feels like a really big deal.’

He sat down across from her, and she waited, her hands clutched together in her lap, not touching her own food. He picked up his spoon and brought the first bite of curry rice to his mouth.

Thea watched his face intently, her own meal completely forgotten as she tried to decipher his reaction, her anxiety making her chest tight.

’He isn’t saying anything, he hates it, I knew it, I messed it up.’

"This is really, really good, Thea."

The immense tension that had been holding her body rigid seemed to vanish all at once, and a wave of pure, overwhelming relief washed over her. A faint warmth on her cheeks, unable to look at him now.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It’s way better than the stir-fry I made."

’He is not lying, his expression is genuine, he really thinks it is good.’ she looked down at her own bowl, the steam rising from the curry. She picked up her spoon, her hand no longer trembling. She took the first bite.

’It tastes... right. It tastes like how she used to make it, a long, long time ago, before everything happened.’ She felt a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the temperature of the food.

The curry was gone, leaving behind two empty bowls and a silence that felt different from the one before it. The shared meal had created a small, fragile bridge between them, but now they were on opposite sides of it, unsure of how to cross.

’This felt normal, he thought, ’a real dinner in a real house, not just two people eating in the same room.’ He looked at Thea, who was staring down at her own clean plate, her expression unreadable. ’But what happens now? What do I do?’

He decided to do the one thing he knew how to do: chores. It was a solid, dependable action in a world that had suddenly gone completely off the rails. He stood up and grabbed his empty bowl.

"I’ll, uh, do the dishes."

Thea’s head snapped up. She looked like a startled deer, her eyes wide. She immediately shot up from her chair, grabbing her own bowl like it was a hot potato.

"No, I can do it. I cooked, so I should clean."

Her voice was a quiet, panicked rush of words. It was the "I-need-to-earn-my-keep" reflex, and he saw it clear as day.

’Nope. We are not starting that.’

"It’s cool," he said, taking her bowl from her hands before she could protest. His fingers brushed against hers, and she flinched, pulling her hand back like she’d been burned. "It’s a two-bowl job. I think I can handle it. You just... chill. Watch that ninja show again."

He turned and walked to the kitchen sink, not giving her a chance to argue. He could feel her watching him, a small, confused ghost standing by the dining table.

He turned on the water and started washing the dishes. It was a simple, repetitive task, and it was exactly what his overloaded brain needed. The sound of the running water filled the apartment, washing away some of the awkwardness.

After a minute, he heard a small, shuffling sound behind him. He glanced over his shoulder.

Thea was standing there with a dry towel in her hands. She wouldn’t look at him, her eyes were fixed on the bowl he was currently washing.

"...I can dry."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A quiet, desperate plea to be useful, to not be a lump of useless tragedy sitting on his couch.

His first instinct was to say no, to tell her to go relax. But then he saw the look on her face. That fragile, stubborn determination. Taking this away from her would be like telling her she wasn’t allowed to breathe her own air.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft. He finished rinsing the first bowl and handed it to her.

And just like that, they were a team.

It was the most normal thing that had happened between them. He washed, she dried. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. They just worked side-by-side in the quiet of the kitchen, two kids pretending to be adults in a world that had completely forgotten about them.

When the last dish was dried and put away, Thea folded the towel with a neat, precise motion and set it on the counter.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"No problem."

She turned and, without another word, shuffled back down the hallway to her room, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

Kofi just stood there in the clean kitchen, the apartment suddenly feeling very quiet again.

’Well,’ he thought, running a hand through his hair. ’That’s progress, I guess.’

He wandered into the living room and sank onto the couch. He picked up one of his manga volumes, but he couldn’t focus on the panels.

He tossed the manga onto the coffee table and just stared at the ceiling.

His brain felt like a browser with a thousand tabs open, and all of them were playing different, terrible songs at the same time.

’I should call Nina.’

But, it was late so he decided he will just talk to her talking on their walk to school. Right now, what he needed was a bath and a good nights rest. Because tomorrow will be another tiresome day.

’Haaah, if this is how people live, I don’t think I will make it to my twenties, its so overwhelming. Now I understand why some people just go crazy in movies when dealing with life drama... there I go again, trying to sound deep.’

He stood up and began walking upstairs, ’Let me just take a bath and head to bed.’