The streets of the city were alive with evening energy. Merchants folded up their stalls, hawking their last goods of the day, while hungry crowds pushed toward food vendors, their laughter mingling with the clatter of pots and pans. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, casting a golden glow across cobblestone paths. For most, the bustle meant warmth, food, and family. For Rayan, it was only a reminder of how little he had.
He wandered the streets with no direction, his boots scuffing against stone. I can't keep living off scraps of my guard pay. Not now. Not when Lina has dreams that will cost more than I can ever save.
He had already asked at three different shops each turned him away before he could finish explaining. At one place, the owner laughed outright. "A gate guard and no crest? You'd only slow us down." Another shook his head politely but firmly. "Sorry, boy. We're not looking."
With each rejection, his shoulders felt heavier. His hunger, ignored since morning, gnawed at his stomach as if mocking his desperation. But he pushed forward. He had no other choice.
At last, the smell of roasted meat and herbs drifted through the air, pulling him toward the bustling market square. Food stalls still steamed with dishes, and the laughter of well-fed customers carried over the noise. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching. Then he noticed a gruff-looking man barking orders outside a modest restaurant, his voice booming across the square.
"Need a helper here! Anyone who can carry dishes and not drop them step forward!"
Without hesitation, Rayan approached. "I'll take the job."
The man looked him up and down, squinting. His arms were folded, his tone suspicious. "Can you work in a restaurant?"
Rayan's brow furrowed. "Is it cooking work?"
The man shook his head. "No. I need a waiter. But " he hesitated, glancing at Rayan's steady stance "we do have a vacancy in the kitchen. Pay's higher if you can cook."
Rayan's heart quickened. He wasn't trained, but he remembered all those nights of survival boiling potatoes, making stews, throwing whatever scraps he had into a pot just to fill his belly. It wasn't fancy, but it had kept him alive. He straightened his back. "I can cook."
The man raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. "All right. Show me. Make two dishes whatever you can."
Inside, the kitchen roared with activity. The air was thick with steam, the clatter of pans, the sharp scent of spices. Rayan rolled his sleeves, his hands surprisingly steady despite the weight of the moment. He picked what was available a handful of root vegetables, some leftover meat, and dried herbs. His mind moved instinctively, recalling nights when hunger forced him to experiment with whatever was at hand.
First, he made a simple herb soup thick, hearty, balanced with just enough salt to bring out the flavor. Then, he grilled the meat, slicing it thin and seasoning it lightly with the dried herbs before serving it alongside roasted roots.
The gruff man clearly the head cook tasted both dishes. His face remained unreadable at first, then he nodded slowly. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You've got talent. Rough, but real. You can start tomorrow."
Relief surged through Rayan, but before he could thank him, the man added, "And here. Take this." He slid the plate of soup and roasted roots toward him. "You can have one portion like this every day after your shift. Not more than one. Understand?"
Rayan blinked, caught off guard. "I thank you."
As he stepped out into the night, carrying the dish carefully, he couldn't help but smile. He said one portion… but this is enough for two. Maybe this way, Lina and I can save a little more money. Things might just get better.
The city lights dimmed as he walked home, the dish wrapped tightly in cloth to keep it warm. His steps were lighter than they had been in weeks.
When he pushed open the door to their modest room, Lina looked up from where she had been pacing. Her face lit up in relief, though her words spilled out apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't prepare dinner yet. Wait, I'll make something."
Rayan shook his head with a small grin. "From tomorrow onward, don't worry about dinner. I'll bring it from outside."
Her brows knit in concern. "But buying food daily is expensive. We can't afford that."
He set the wrapped dish on the table, his smile widening just slightly. "It's not what you think. I found another job. At a restaurant. As a cook."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "You… you got another job? But you're already working as a gate guard. If you do two jobs at the same time, it'll be too much. You'll exhaust yourself."
Rayan shook his head firmly, placing the dish in front of her. "It's not a problem. Don't worry about me. What matters is you. You need to focus on learning magic. That's what will change our lives."
She hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but his conviction left no room for doubt. She lowered her gaze and smiled faintly. "You really are… impossible sometimes."
They sat together at the small wooden table, opening the cloth to reveal the fragrant soup and roasted roots. The warmth filled the room instantly. As they shared the meal, Lina's smile grew brighter with each bite.
"It's delicious," she said softly, her eyes glimmering. "It reminds me of… my mother's cooking. Thank you, Rayan."
Rayan looked at her, the flickering lamplight softening her features. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring in his chest hope.
The food was simple, the room humble, and their lives uncertain. But in that moment, sitting across from Lina with a warm meal between them, it felt like enough.
And for the first time in months, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow could be brighter than today.