The mornings in the house had begun to settle into a rhythm. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling across the polished floors and dancing along the edges of the kitchen. Julia had grown accustomed to the quiet, the gentle hum of the city outside, and the comforting presence of Adeline moving efficiently through her domain.
For Julia, these weeks were a lesson in patience, focus, and creativity. The chaos of the first week—the burned sauces, the stuck noodles, the rice cakes flung across the counter—had become memories she could laugh at now. In their place, she found a sense of purpose, a tangible measure of independence that extended beyond mere survival.
---
That morning, she approached the kitchen with a mixture of anticipation and determination. Adeline was already at work, chopping vegetables with a rhythm that seemed almost musical. Julia set her bag down, pulled on her apron, and greeted her teacher.
"Good morning, Miss Julia," Adeline said, eyes twinkling. "Today, we will tackle something a bit more challenging: Spanish tortilla with a side of gazpacho."
Julia's eyes widened slightly at the mention of gazpacho. A cold, raw soup with a complex blend of flavors? That sounded intimidating. She swallowed her nervousness and nodded. "I'm ready," she said firmly.
Adeline handed her the ingredients with careful instruction. "Cooking is about attention," she said softly. "Notice the color, the texture, the scent. Your senses will guide you more than your hands alone ever can."
Julia focused intently, slicing the potatoes thinly, beating the eggs just so, and carefully folding the mixture. Her first attempt at the tortilla was lopsided, the edges slightly overcooked, but the interior held a soft, golden center. She felt a small surge of pride as she cut into it and tasted her work.
"You see?" Adeline said approvingly. "Imperfection is part of learning. Mastery comes through repetition, patience, and reflection."
---
As the days passed, Julia expanded her repertoire. She tried croquetas, experimenting with textures and fillings. She learned the delicate balance of seasoning in gazpacho, carefully tasting, adjusting, and tasting again. Mistakes were frequent—too much garlic, undercooked fillings, sauce that was too thin—but each error was a lesson.
Adeline guided her with calm authority, correcting mistakes gently, offering tips, and sharing the small secrets of the recipes she had learned in her own youth. Julia soaked it all up, eager to master each dish, eager to prove to herself that she could succeed without being told what to do by anyone else.
---
It was during one of these cooking sessions that Nephis appeared again, this time carrying a small tray with fresh fruit. Her brow was raised, a small, mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"You seem… focused," Nephis said lightly, setting the tray down. "I can see why people speak so highly of you."
Julia froze slightly, her mind racing. "Thank you," she said carefully, unsure whether to read the comment as praise, sarcasm, or subtle challenge.
Nephis stepped closer, examining the tortillas Julia had prepared. "Not bad," she said, picking up a piece and tasting it. "Though I think it could use a little more seasoning. Salt, perhaps? And a touch of pepper."
Julia blinked, momentarily flustered. "I… I thought it was seasoned enough," she said cautiously.
Nephis smirked faintly. "It's good. Don't take offense. I just… like to observe. You're trying, and that counts for more than talent alone."
Julia nodded, her mind still racing. There was something strange about Nephis—her tone, her subtle teasing, the way she seemed to appear exactly when Julia was deep in concentration. She could not decide if the girl was friend, rival, or just… curious.
---
The week continued with similar lessons and mild chaos. Julia tried chicken curry, perfecting the balance of spices, and attempted a delicate custard that required patience she had only just begun to cultivate. Occasionally, she would glance at the clock, realizing that hours had passed without her noticing, the rhythmic flow of cooking absorbing her completely.
Yet Nephis' presence remained unpredictable. She would appear in the doorway, offering minor critiques, teasing remarks, or simply observing silently. Julia had grown wary of her, assuming that Nephis' attention was some form of rivalry or judgment, especially concerning Khalil. Every glance, every comment seemed layered with meaning Julia wasn't ready to decipher.
---
One evening, after a particularly successful session with paella and jollof rice, Julia found herself alone in the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, tasting the final dish she had prepared. The flavors had blended beautifully—the subtle smokiness of the Spanish rice paired with the rich, earthy undertones of the Nigerian spices. She smiled to herself.
Cooking had become more than just survival—it was a statement of self-reliance. Each dish represented her growth, her determination, and her ability to adapt. She had come a long way from the fumbling beginner who had set fire to a simple sauce just two weeks prior.
And yet, as she admired her creation, a small thought crept into her mind: Nephis.
Why did she seem so… interested? Was it merely curiosity? Admiration? Or something else entirely? Julia's mind refused to settle on an answer.
---
The following day brought another challenge: Adeline had introduced Nigerian akara—fried bean cakes that required patience, precise frying, and careful timing. Julia's first attempt resulted in a batch that was uneven, some overcooked, some under. She groaned in frustration.
Nephis appeared silently in the doorway, a faint smirk on her lips. "You're improving," she said. "Even your mistakes are… impressive."
Julia raised an eyebrow. "Impressive mistakes?" she asked, incredulous.
"Don't look so surprised," Nephis said lightly. "Some mistakes tell you more than success ever could."
Julia couldn't help but laugh softly. There was something undeniably frustrating—and oddly charming—about Nephis. She couldn't place it. Every encounter seemed to mix irritation with curiosity, challenge with admiration.
---
By the end of week four, Julia had mastered several complex dishes from four different cuisines. She could balance flavors, anticipate cooking times, and even improvise when ingredients were missing. The kitchen had become a sanctuary, a place where she could shape her own life with her own hands.
Nephis, while still teasing and enigmatic, had begun to show subtle hints of respect for Julia's abilities. Though Julia still assumed the girl was a rival for Khalil's attention, there were fleeting moments of acknowledgment—soft smiles, approving nods, and occasional genuine interest in her progress.
Julia reflected on her journey so far. Two months of freedom stretched ahead, and the foundation had been laid. She was growing, learning, and discovering aspects of herself she had never had the chance to explore.
Cooking had given her more than skill—it had given her independence, confidence, and a sense of identity. She was no longer the timid, controlled girl from her father's house. She was Julia Kim, and for the first time, she felt the weight of her own life resting firmly in her hands.