You always told me you didn’t marry me for my skills in the kitchen. Naïve, me used to think it was such a compliment… that you, unlike other men, were willing to see me as someone more than your personal cook.
But then I realized the truth. You have a way with words, don’t you? Why couldn’t you just tell me I was a lousy cook? Wait, you did mention it once, I think. And we had a fight. I know, I know; I was pregnant and hormonal, you were stressed and upset about our situation with your mother. Food wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. But still, I had promised myself to learn to cook better after the baby’s birth.
However, that didn’t happen. You left me. For good. And I lost everything with one stroke of Mama’s sword. It still hurts sometimes. I wake up at night drenched in sweat, shaking like a leaf. But I never remember the exact images from my nightmares. A part of me knows they are memories. But the sane, rational part of me refuses to believe it. Perhaps, the courage for this acceptance will come with time.
They say life gives us second chances but not necessarily in the same lifetime. Well, I guess it must be true. I am no longer the woman you knew. I am more than her and better. I am still sharp and witty, smarter than you, of course. But I am also a Le Cordon Bleu chef. We didn’t have such fancy things back in those days. Thankfully, this is no longer the 10th century. Perhaps, you would like a slice of my signature Tarte Tatin along with your orange-infused iced chocolate.
Here, it is a chef’s special. Don’t say no and don’t forget to leave a generous tip! I expect more than just cash.
– Chef Devika’s journal.
A/N- Other parts of the Modern AU are here, here, here, here, here, and here.
@teambaahubali @teammahishmati