WHEN LOVE RETURNS

CHAPTER 14

The next morning, Erica woke before dawn, her heart set on proving herself. I'm not going to let Sam think I can't handle this. I need to show him I belong here... that I'm more than just a spoiled city girl.

She dressed quickly, pulling on jeans and a flannel shirt, her hands trembling with excitement. Quietly, she tiptoed past Sam's room, careful not to wake him, and slipped out into the cool, dewy morning. The dirt road stretched ahead of her, and she felt a thrill of determination as she made her way to the town market.

The market was alive with activity even in the early hours. Vendors were setting up stalls piled high with fresh produce, dried fish, and spices. The smell of grilled meats mingled with the sweetness of ripe fruits. Erica breathed in deeply, the lively energy fueling her resolve.

As she wandered, her attention was caught by a small carinderia. A woman stood behind a steaming pot, stirring its contents with practiced ease. The rich, garlicky aroma wafted toward Erica, making her stomach growl. She hesitated, then approached, her curiosity outweighing her nerves.

"Hi," Erica said, smiling. "That smells amazing. What are you cooking?"

The woman looked up, her face lighting up with a welcoming smile. "Adobong baboy. It's a favorite around here. Would you like some?"

"Actually," Erica said, biting her lip, "I was wondering if you could teach me how to make it. I'm... new to this whole cooking thing."

The woman's laughter was warm and encouraging. "Of course, I'd be happy to. Come, let me show you."

Erica leaned in as the shopkeeper explained the process step by step, her voice full of pride and expertise. Garlic first, then the pork... brown it until it's just right. Be patient with the vinegar, don't stir too soon. Let the flavors come together. Erica jotted down notes on the back of an old receipt, her fingers smudged with ink and the occasional splash of soy sauce.

By the time she'd gathered all the ingredients—fresh pork, soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, bay leaves, and peppercorns—she felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This has to work. Sam might not say it, but I know he's been watching me, waiting for me to fail. Not today.

*****

Back at the house, the kitchen was silent except for the rhythmic sound of her chopping. The garlic sizzled in the pan, filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma. Erica worked carefully, adding each ingredient in the right order, her heart pounding with both focus and anticipation.

I can do this. I'm not just trying—I'm changing.

She was stirring the pot when she heard heavy footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Sam stumble into the kitchen, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed. He yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

"Wow, Ma," he said groggily, sniffing the air. "Your adobo woke me from bed." But when he looked at the stove, his sleepy expression shifted to surprise. "Wait... you're cooking?"

Erica smirked, feeling a flicker of pride. "Surprise! And no, I'm not Aunt Nena, but I think I nailed it."

Sam leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "I think we might need to call the doctor if I get food poisoning." His words were teasing, but there was a familiar sharpness in his tone that made Erica's smile falter for just a moment.

"Very funny," she shot back, flipping the pork pieces with exaggerated flair. "You'll be begging for seconds before you know it."

Her confidence seemed to throw him off. For a moment, he just stared at her, his usual guarded expression softening. She's... different like this, he thought, the realization catching him off guard. She's not giving up.

"What's with the staring?" Erica asked, waving a spoon at him. "Am I that mesmerizing, or are you finally impressed?"

Sam blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "Just making sure you don't burn the house down," he muttered, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Erica grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

*****

When the adobo was finally done, Erica plated it with care, adding a heaping scoop of rice. "Chef Sam," she said with a dramatic flourish, setting the dish in front of him. "Your breakfast is served."

Sam eyed the plate skeptically, then took a cautious bite. As the flavors hit his tongue, his eyes widened slightly. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable at first, then nodded.

"This is... actually good," he admitted, his voice tinged with surprise.

Erica's face lit up. "Really? I did it! I knew I could."

Sam took another bite, a reluctant smile forming. "Maybe I was wrong about you," he said, his tone softer than usual. "You might just survive out here after all."

Her heart swelled at his words, small as they were. "Coming from you, that means a lot," she said, her voice warm.

As they ate together, the tension from the past few days seemed to ease slightly. The morning sunlight streamed into the kitchen, bathing them in a golden glow.

After a moment of quiet, Erica took a deep breath. "Sam, I just want to say I'm sorry for what I said before. I didn't mean to offend you. I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm trying. I really am."

Sam set down his fork, his gaze steady. "I know you are," he said after a pause. "But this life isn't easy. You've got to take it seriously. There's no room for mistakes out here."

"I understand," she said softly. "And I appreciate everything you and Aunt Nena have done for me. I want to be better—not just for me, but for you guys too."

Sam nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "That's all anyone can ask."

Erica smiled, her chest filling with hope. As she cleared the table, she felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. It's not perfect, but it's progress.

Sam leaned against the counter, watching her. Maybe she's stronger than I thought. And maybe... He shook his head, pushing the thought away.

But as he left the kitchen, a small, unfamiliar feeling stirred within him. Maybe I've been too hard on her. Maybe she does belong here... with me.