Episode 71 Michael Learns to Cook for the Twins and Marnie: Disaster or Success?
1287 Words
Michael stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and a slight frown of frustration etched across his usually composed face. The morning sun spilled through the condo windows, illuminating the chaos he had already created. Flour dusted the countertop. An egg lay cracked but untouched on the edge of the sink. And the twins, or rather their constant kicks, reminded him with every subtle movement that the stakes were higher than they had ever been before.
He had promised Marnie he would take care of everything now that she was forbidden from lifting, stirring, chopping, or doing any household tasks that might strain her or the twins. But cooking—real cooking—was proving to be a battlefield.
Marnie sat on a bar stool, belly slightly swollen from the twins inside her, holding a mug of warm herbal tea. She watched him with an amused and slightly exasperated expression.
“Michael, you’re supposed to make breakfast, not a flour tornado,” she said lightly, trying to suppress a laugh.
He didn’t even glance at her, eyes glued to the stovetop. “Focus,” he muttered, speaking more to himself than to her. “You need protein. Vitamins. Nutrients. And I will master this. For the twins. For you. For… survival.”
Marnie shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips. She loved seeing him like this—so determined, so completely invested, yet so comically out of his element.
“Do you want me to help?” she asked cautiously.
Michael’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide. “No!” he barked, then immediately softened. “I mean… I mean, not physically. You can offer moral support. But no hands-on involvement. This is my trial. My challenge. My… culinary redemption for the twins and my wife.”
“Culinary redemption?” Marnie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know what that means?”
“Yes. It means I will either succeed gloriously, or fail spectacularly, but learn from it.”
The twins seemed to sense the tension, kicking sharply in response to the commotion. Marnie winced and clutched her belly.
“Michael… maybe a little calmer?” she suggested.
He froze, looking down at her. “Calm? I… okay. Calm.” He took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and began again. “Eggs. Scrambled. Soft. No browning. Avoid shell fragments. Do not overcook. Timing is crucial. Temperature… medium-low…”
Marnie tried not to giggle as he continued muttering instructions like a general preparing for war.
The Egg Disaster
Michael cracked the first egg. Half of it landed perfectly in the bowl, the other half… on the counter. He froze, staring at the mess as if it had personally offended him.
“Michael,” Marnie said gently, “it’s just an egg.”
“I don’t do just eggs,” he muttered, grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess. “This is sustenance. This is life. This is… nutrition for my children and my wife!”
Marnie chuckled, leaning back and letting him handle it.
The second attempt was more controlled. He cracked the egg into the bowl carefully, whisked it with more vigor than necessary, and poured it into a hot pan. Immediately, the egg stuck. He cursed under his breath, carefully scraping it off.
“Michael!” Marnie couldn’t stop herself from laughing now. “They’re not going to starve!”
“They might if I fail!” he shot back, tossing the spatula aside and grabbing a second one. “This is high-stakes cooking!”
The twins kicked sharply, and Marnie flinched. “They’re giving you feedback,” she teased.
Michael froze, hand on her belly. “Feedback?”
“Yes, they think your cooking is too aggressive.”
His eyes softened instantly, the fierceness of his earlier panic replaced by tenderness. “I… I will do better. For them. For you. Nothing aggressive, only gentle, only perfect.”
The Smoothie Catastrophe
Next, he decided to prepare a fruit smoothie. Simple, he thought. Bananas, berries, milk, and some protein powder. Simple.
Except, Michael had forgotten one crucial detail—he didn’t know the strength of the blender.
He placed the ingredients inside, pressed the button, and immediately the lid flew off, sending a rainbow of fruit puree across the counter and even lightly splattering Marnie’s shirt.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up. “Michael!”
He froze, horrified. “The… the twins!” he said, glancing at her belly. “They… they are safe, right?”
Marnie burst out laughing despite herself. “Yes! They’re fine! And so am I!”
Michael carefully wiped the counter, muttering apologies to the twins like they could hear him. “I… I’m sorry. I was… overly aggressive. They have my apologies!”
“Michael, they’re not going to hold grudges,” Marnie said, still giggling.
“But what about nutrition?” he said, as if the universe had personally conspired against him.
Marnie shook her head. “Maybe… order fruit smoothies for today?”
He looked down, dejected for a moment, then squared his shoulders. “No. Failure is not an option. I will… I will adapt.”
The Final Attempt
By late morning, Michael had narrowed it down to toast, eggs, and a smoothie. The eggs were soft, slightly imperfect but edible. The toast was lightly burnt on the edges, but he served it with a proud flourish.
Marnie looked at him, holding back laughter. “It… looks… fine,” she said carefully.
He held his head high. “It is fine. Perfect, even. Nutrition intact. Flavor balanced. Textures harmonious.”
Marnie couldn’t resist anymore. She burst out laughing. “Michael, you’ve officially created the most stressful breakfast I’ve ever had!”
He tilted his head, feigning offense. “Stressful? This was meant to be love. Culinary love. Devotion. Sacrifice for the twins and their mother!”
“I can feel the devotion,” she said, taking a bite. “And the sacrifice. Very… real sacrifice.”
The twins kicked sharply in agreement—or protest, she couldn’t tell.
Michael froze. “They approve? Or… disapprove?”
Marnie laughed, leaning against him. “They approve, I think. Maybe a little mixed, but mostly approve.”
He exhaled, finally allowing himself a small grin. “Then we have succeeded. Disaster avoided. Nutrition delivered. Twins nourished. Wife protected. Mission… accomplished.”
Marnie shook her head, smiling and resting her hand on her belly. “Michael, you’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me for it,” he replied confidently, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She laughed again, rolling her eyes. “Maybe. For now.”
He chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Just wait. You’ll thank me when the twins arrive. Then you’ll understand why I banned you from cooking in the first place.”
Marnie shook her head again. “I’m pretty sure I’ll survive it,” she said softly.
Michael looked down at her, eyes soft but gleaming with determination. “You’ll survive. And so will the twins. Because I will make sure of it. Every meal, every nap, every step—you are under my protection. My responsibility. My obsession. My love.”
Marnie leaned her head against his shoulder, letting his words sink in. Despite the chaos, despite the disasters and the small messes, she felt safe, loved, and oddly content. Michael’s obsession, his controlling streak, and his overprotectiveness—it wasn’t suffocating; it was a fortress built around her and the twins.
And as the twins kicked again, almost as if acknowledging their father’s vow, Marnie smiled.
Yes, Michael Co was ridiculous. But she loved him more than words could say.
- Writer
