[Afternoon, Vjaret's Dining Room]
Lunch was an event.
The table stretched long—longer than the room could really fit, extended with borrowed tables and random surfaces. Chairs of all shapes and sizes surrounded it. And somehow, everyone fit.
Vjaret's mother had outdone herself.
Dishes covered every inch of available surface. Rice. Curries. Breads. Sweets. Things I didn't recognize but smelled amazing. Things Angy was already reaching for before anyone sat down.
"Angy." Shenhe's voice. Warning.
"What? I'm hungry!"
"Wait. For. Everyone."
"But the food is RIGHT THERE."
"It will still be there in thirty seconds."
"But—"
"Sit."
Angy sat.
I hid a smile.
Vjaret's mother noticed. Winked at me. "She's good at that, isn't she?"
"Shenhe? Yeah. She's been managing Angy for seventeen years."
"Seventeen years?" She paused, a bowl in her hands. "That's a long time."
Is it?
Feels like both forever and no time at all.
"Yeah."
She smiled. Soft. Understanding. "Then they're not really maids, are they? They're family."
I didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Everyone sat.
Vjaret's father said something in a language I didn't know—blessing, maybe, or thanks. Then everyone reached for food at once.
Chaos.
Beautiful, normal, family chaos.
"Nams, try this!" Vjaret's aunt pushed a plate toward me. "My specialty!"
"And this!" Someone else added another dish. "You're too skinny, eat more!"
"And this—"
By the time the first wave passed, my plate was overflowing.
Angy was in heaven. She'd made friends with Vjaret's grandmother somehow—they were trading recipes, or insults, or both. Hard to tell.
Shenhe sat quietly, eating slowly, watching everything. But she looked... relaxed. As relaxed as Shenhe ever looked.
"Nams."
I looked up.
Vjaret's grandfather sat across from me. Old. Wrinkled. Eyes sharp as knives.
"You're not from here."
It wasn't a question.
"No."
"Thought so." He nodded slowly. "You've got that look. The look of someone who's seen things."
Seen things.
Killed things.
Lost things.
"Yeah."
He studied me for a long moment. Then smiled. "Good. That means you'll appreciate this."
He pushed a bowl toward me. Some kind of dessert—sweet, sticky, golden.
"Best thing my wife ever taught me to make. Eat."
I ate.
It was incredible.
He laughed at my expression. "See? Told you."
Lunch stretched for hours.
Or maybe it just felt that way. Time moved differently when you were surrounded by noise and warmth and people who didn't know your past but accepted you anyway.
At some point, Vjaret leaned over.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"They like you."
"Who?"
"Everyone. My mom. My dad. My grandmother—she never talks to strangers, and she's teaching Angy her recipes."
I looked. Angy was indeed in the kitchen with Vjaret's grandmother, both of them covered in flour and arguing about something.
"She's... something."
"She's great." Vjaret grinned. "They're both great. Your maids. Weird, but great."
Weird but great.
That's one way to describe them.
"Yeah."
"Anyway." He stood. "More food?"
"How is there more food?"
"It's Holi. There's ALWAYS more food."
He was right.
....