By the end of the second week, Julia had begun venturing beyond the boundaries of Korean and English cuisine. Adeline had suggested that trying something new would challenge her adaptability, and Julia had eagerly agreed. First up: Spanish dishes.
The first morning, Julia found herself chopping onions and bell peppers for paella. The colors alone made her feel alive—the deep red of the peppers, the golden strands of saffron, the earthy brown of the short-grain rice. Adeline hovered nearby, her hands occasionally brushing Julia's as she demonstrated the proper stir-and-fold technique.
"Cooking isn't just about following a recipe," Adeline said, her voice calm. "It's about rhythm. You must feel the ingredients, know their moods. The rice should whisper when it's ready, the vegetables sing when they're perfectly tender."
Julia laughed softly, imagining ingredients literally whispering to her, but she followed the instructions diligently. The first attempt at paella was uneven—the rice stuck to the pan in places, some vegetables were undercooked—but the taste was unexpectedly delightful. She felt a surge of pride. She was learning not just to follow orders but to trust her intuition.
---
Later in the week, Adeline introduced Julia to some Nigerian dishes. Julia had always loved the idea of cooking foods from different cultures, and she eagerly embraced the challenge. Jollof rice was her first experiment.
Adeline guided her through the process: the careful balance of tomatoes, onions, and peppers, the perfect touch of oil, and the patient stirring over low heat. Julia's first batch was a little over-salted, the rice slightly uneven, but she didn't mind. Every mistake was a lesson, every success a quiet victory.
Next came egusi soup, which proved even trickier. The texture of the melon seeds, the delicate balance of spices, and the timing of adding the vegetables—all required precise attention. Julia fumbled initially, adding ingredients too quickly, stirring too violently, but by the third attempt, the soup had a rich, creamy texture and a deep, savory flavor that made her smile with satisfaction.
---
Through it all, Nephis' presence loomed quietly in the background. She would appear unexpectedly, leaning against the counter with a raised brow, commenting on Julia's methods in a tone that was teasing but oddly curious.
"You know, you really do work hard," Nephis said one afternoon, watching Julia stir the paella with a delicate wrist movement. "Not many would bother with such… precision."
Julia stiffened, unsure how to respond. "Thank you," she said cautiously. "I… I want to do it right."
Nephis tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. "I can see that. It's… admirable. But tell me—why? Is this for you? Or… for him?"
Julia felt a sudden flush creeping up her neck. "For… myself," she said firmly, setting down her spoon. "Not for anyone else."
Nephis' smirk softened into a knowing smile, but her eyes lingered a moment too long on Julia, a curiosity—or perhaps a challenge—hidden there. Julia couldn't read it, and that only made her more cautious.
---
Despite these occasional tensions, Julia's skills and confidence continued to grow. Each day brought a new challenge: mastering tortilla española, experimenting with gazpacho, perfecting fried plantains and akara. Each success was a small triumph, each mistake a lesson.
Adeline's teaching style was gentle but firm. She praised Julia's successes and corrected her mistakes without condescension. Slowly, Julia began to feel a sense of ownership over her work, over the kitchen, and over her own life. For the first time in years, she felt she was shaping her own destiny, even in the smallest of ways.
---
One evening, after a particularly successful day of cooking jollof rice and bulgogi fusion, Julia leaned against the counter and exhaled, her mind drifting to thoughts of Khalil. His absence, which had initially been a source of anxiety, now felt less suffocating. She was building a life—her life—one dish at a time.
Nephis appeared at the doorway, arms crossed, a faint smirk on her face. "I saw what you did today," she said lightly. "The fusion… it's… interesting. Not bad."
Julia hesitated, unsure whether to take the comment as genuine praise or a subtle critique. "Thank you," she said cautiously.
Nephis stepped closer, her expression softening. "You're… determined. I can see why he's… fond of you."
Julia froze, her mind spinning. Was that a compliment? A warning? A subtle test? She swallowed, forcing herself to maintain composure. "Thank you," she said again, carefully neutral.
Nephis smiled faintly, then turned and left the kitchen. Julia exhaled slowly, her heart racing. Perhaps she had misjudged Nephis' intentions all along. Maybe she wasn't a rival. Maybe… she was just another young woman, curious, like her.
---
As the two weeks drew to a close, Julia reflected on her journey. She had started with tteokbokki, fumbling and burning her way through her first lesson. Now, she could manage complex dishes from three cultures: Korean, English, and Nigerian. Spanish cuisine was still a work in progress, but she could see the patterns, the rhythm, the underlying logic that would allow her to master it with practice.
More than that, she had grown in confidence. She had learned to trust herself, to take initiative, to adapt when things went wrong. She had discovered that independence wasn't just about surviving—it was about creating, experimenting, and embracing life's unpredictability.
And Nephis… she was still an enigma. Sharp, teasing, occasionally provocative—but Julia sensed that there was more to her than mere rivalry. Something softer, perhaps, hidden beneath the cool exterior. Julia wasn't sure yet what it was, but she resolved to be cautious—and curious.
---
By the end of the second week, Julia stood in the kitchen, surveying the fruits of her labor: neatly plated dishes, a clean counter, and a faint aroma of spices lingering in the air. She felt a quiet pride welling up inside her. Two months of freedom stretched ahead, uncertain and full of possibilities—but for the first time, she felt ready.
Cooking had given her more than skill—it had given her control, independence, and a sense of self. And that, she realized with a small, determined smile, was worth far more than any title, any wealth, or any prince.