Retrouvaille | Bbangsaz

Prologue

The late afternoon sun bathed the Pham household in a warm, golden glow, casting playful shadows on the walls as it began its descent towards the horizon. In the cozy kitchen, the heart of the home, the savory aroma of simmering broth and sizzling vegetables filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of jasmine from the garden outside. This was a place of love and laughter, where every meal was a story, and every ingredient a character in an unfolding culinary adventure.

Three-year-old Hanni Pham sat at the small, round kitchen table, her tiny legs swinging above the tiled floor. Her dark eyes sparkled with curiosity as she watched her parents move about the kitchen with practiced ease. Her mother, Linh, a woman with a perpetual aura of calm, was at the stove, stirring a pot of pho with rhythmic precision. Her father, Minh, a man whose laughter could fill any room, was chopping vegetables with swift, deliberate motions. The clinking of utensils, the bubbling of the broth, and the occasional burst of laughter created a symphony that was both comforting and inspiring.

"Hanni, sweetheart, would you like to help Mommy with the soup?" Linh asked, her voice gentle and inviting. She turned to her daughter with a smile that could light up the darkest room.

Hanni's eyes widened with excitement. Helping in the kitchen was her favorite thing to do, even if her contributions were often more symbolic than substantial. She hopped off her chair and trotted over to her mother, her little fingers already reaching for the wooden spoon.

"Yes, Mommy! I want to help!" she exclaimed, her voice a high-pitched giggle of joy.

Linh handed her the spoon, carefully guiding her small hand to stir the pot. "Just like this, Hanni. Slow and gentle."

Hanni mimicked her mother's movements, her concentration intense as she stirred the fragrant broth. She loved the way the steam tickled her nose and the colors danced in the pot. It was like magic, turning raw ingredients into something so delicious and comforting.

"Good job, sweetheart," Minh praised from the counter, his eyes twinkling with pride. "You’re a natural."

Hanni beamed at her father's words. She loved the way her parents always encouraged her, making her feel like she could do anything. She glanced up at them, her small face serious with a question that had been brewing in her mind.

"Mommy, Daddy," she began, her voice soft but determined. "When I grow up, I want to be a chef. Like you."

Linh and Minh exchanged a surprised but delighted look. They knew their daughter loved helping in the kitchen, but hearing her declare her dream so earnestly at such a young age was both touching and amusing.

"A chef, huh?" Minh said, kneeling down to be at eye level with his daughter. "Why do you want to be a chef, Hanni?"

Hanni thought for a moment, her tiny brow furrowing in concentration. "Because chefs make people happy with food. And I like to make people happy."

Linh felt a swell of emotion at her daughter's innocent yet profound words. She knelt beside her husband, taking Hanni's small hands in hers. "That's a wonderful reason, Hanni. Being a chef is a very special job. It takes a lot of hard work and love."

"I can do it, Mommy. I can work hard," Hanni insisted, her eyes shining with determination.

Minh chuckled, ruffling Hanni's hair. "We know you can, sweetheart. And we will help you every step of the way."

Hanni smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She loved the idea of being a chef, of creating dishes that brought joy to others. She imagined herself in a big white apron, standing in a bustling kitchen, just like her parents. It was a dream that filled her heart with excitement and purpose.