1.1 | The Yakuza Bride

Chapter 40

A/N: I've forgotten how long I haven't posted for.

~

Lyonya^___^:

See you at dinner

Me:

-image-

Lyonya^__^ :

Wow who is that guy?

Me:

Just some actor I met the other day! Cute right?

Lyonya^__^ :

Do I need to meet him?

Me:

No, only I will meet him. You go to work and earn your money.

Lyonya^__^ :

Hana Yazumi, I swear if you are really meeting that guy, whoever he is, you should remember what happened to the last one.

Me:

What last one? Are you trying to threaten me?

Lyonya^__^ :

No. Threatening the guy who's meeting you. And you know what happened to the last one. It was in the news.

Me:

Don't text and drive. And yeah I remember the last one. Who could forget that charming man?

Lyonya^__^ :

Charming?! I'll show you charming when I get home! I'll charm the socks off you so hard you'll beg for more.

Me:

I'm not wearing socks, but anything you say.

Lyonya^__^ :

SO HARD. Remember that.

~

Hana replaced her phone onto the kitchen island with a small smile playing at her lips. She was at Mrs Flowers' today to learn the art of baking madeleines. 

Mrs Flowers' kitchen was like the holy of holies, a sacred sanctuary without blemish. It was spotless, pristine, and smelled often of home baked goods. Her marble countertop shined like a slab of polished glass. Every nook and cranny was spick and span. Every pot, pan, plate, mug, and spoon were hidden neatly behind the cupboard doors, compartmentalised.

Hana had been in awe the first time she entered, and was still in awe when she stepped in that morning. How could anyone keep anything so clean? Mrs Anderson was a dear old lady, yet she didn't understand how she could keep everything in such a precise orderly fashion. Her hair didn't come undone, her apron remained spotless, and her face was flour free.

She, on the other hand, had strands of hair sticking to her neck, blobs of dough on her apron, and a smudge of flour on her cheek. She had made the mistake of scratching the itch on her cheek, thus leaving a white spot behind.

Now that the baking was done, she heaved a sigh of relief and began the tedious process of scrubbing the extra dough off her hands. They clumped together and got stuck under her fingernails, and she had to spend another minute at the sink just to pick them out. So annoying. She enjoyed baking, but not the washing up process after that. The warm smell of madeleines began to fill the kitchen, and her stomach churned at the sickly sweet scent.

'Hana, your phone is ringing!'

She pushed aside the thought of her queasy stomach, then hastily wiped her hands on her floury apron. Two wet and white smears appeared, messing it up even more. Her fingers left wet spots on her phone as she picked it up and swiped the green bar across.