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Audemars Piguet
Asma
It's been long since I cooked, I don't usually cook here, he's never asked me to but today the Good Samaritan in me decided to cook, I wasn't cooking anything fancy, just a three course meal to have over the takeouts and cereals we've been eating, I knew what I was making for dessert, I am the best at desserts, a simple Lebanese but half way through i realized he once mentioned he was lactose intolerant so I had to go out and get some almond milk, the store nearby had some so I got to work once again, Mukhtar had gone out, he was courteous enough today to say he's going out, I laid my first layer in a glass tray and set it aside to cool while I crushed my cashews and pistachios, a little twist to it with the cashews, my whipping cream was made with almond milk too, a quick syrup and ten minutes later it was done and in the fridge, I got to my Mandi with obviously shuwa, because I don't eat chicken, I brought out my meat and I heard the front door open, he came back earlier than I expected, he went out less than thirty minutes ago
I ignored it and when to the pick my spices I like to bring out my spices before working so I picked a tray to set the jars of spices for the shuwa, for someone that doesn't cook he sure has a lot of spices, apart from the ones I got. I was already making enough but I saw saffron, and saffron rice wouldn't hurt would it?
As I walked out my mouth hung and my brows furrowed, a non-familiar figure stood in my kitchen, right above my Mandi, he added a few more raisins and spices, I was too shocked to move, one thing I hate is people interfering with my cooking and this guy was there, I should be panicking how a stranger got in but I was annoyed
"Excuse you? That's very rude" I dropped the tray of spices as he turned, I was scared but I wasn't going to show him, I was suddenly aware of the bubu I wore with a cap, my veil for it was upstairs, leaving my arms and neck exposed "you must be Mukhtar's new wife" he smiled, I didn't like the way he said it, he was white, azin white not fair, and the curly hair, my first guess was shuwa Arab or from one of the African Arab countries
"Not new, but yeah, what are you doing here? The parlor's outside there" I pointed, he looked away ever so respectful, he chuckled "I'm sorry about that, I'm here to see Mukhtar" he still didn't look at me again, he kept his gaze away and everything I had against him washed away that single moment, if I ever had a son, this would be how I would raise him, not shy but respectful
"He went out" I said putting my exposed arms behind me, he turned to continue doing something on my food and I used that as a chance to go up and get my veil, I did and when I came back he was making the marinade with the spices
"You'll mess it up, I was going to make shuwa, a slow cooked meat, not everyone can get the right spice mix" he worked like he knew what he was doing but he's just a man, and one thing I noticed about him is his overconfidence already
