When Adrian told me his old friend Lucia was coming to stay, I smiled but didn’t really know what to expect. She arrived with a cloud of perfume and a sharp tongue, immediately criticizing everything—from the smell of my cooking to the food we ate out. Her constant condescension made me tense and quiet.
She mocked my dishes and even dumped a homemade pork belly meal into the trash, saying it was embarrassing. I was stunned, but Adrian finally stood up for me, telling Lucia she’d crossed a line and had to leave. She left without an apology.
Afterwards, Adrian apologized for how hard it was but said he’d always have my back. We shared a quiet dinner, the scent of garlic and fish sauce lingering, a reminder of home and resilience.
Later, he surprised me with a Korean cooking class for us both. As we cooked side by side, laughing and learning, I realized food wasn’t just a meal—it was how we healed, connected, and wrote our story. And now, that story smells like peace.