The warm smell of garlic and onions filled the kitchen as the sound of the knife tapping against the wooden board echoed softly.
Elize's movements were graceful, and each slice was smooth and even as though she had done this routine a thousand times before.
Beside her, Yverine sat perched on the counter and her brows are furrowed in concentration as she tried to match Elize's pace, though her cuts were still a little uneven.
"Like this?" Yverine asked, holding up a small piece of onion she had chopped.
Her voice carried that faint uncertainty she often tried to hide, as if she was still unused to asking for approval.
Elize turned her head slightly, strands of damp hair brushing against her cheek, and nodded warmly "Yes, dear… do it like that. That's perfect."
Yverine's lips curved into a bright smile at the praise.
She adjusted her grip on the knife and continued chopping, this time more confidently, almost humming under her breath.
