Chapter 15 : Ava
1272 Words
As I stood in the dining hall, my heart raced with a nervous energy that surpassed even the anxiety I felt while waiting for my university acceptance email. The entire family had gathered around the dining table, their expressions a blend of eager anticipation and genuine warmth, creating an atmosphere charged with expectation and affection.
Alfred couldn't hide his excitement, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "I can't wait to taste what you've cooked," he said, pulling his chair closer with a grin.
"Same here, love. Same here," Martha's face lit up with affection, and she smiled warmly at Alfred, conveying her joy with a simple glance as she settled into her seat.
Rosa, with a mischievous glint in her eye, shared her eagerness. "I skipped lunch today," she confessed, "just so I can fully savor your food without worrying about calories." Her animated gestures expressed her excitement as she joined the others at the table.
Patrick nodded in agreement, his senses already captivated by the delightful aroma. "The fragrance is simply amazing," he remarked, taking his seat with a satisfied smile. "I've heard you made it from scratch. Is it true?" He added, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
"Yeah, I did," I replied with a hint of surprise. "But how did you know?"
Patrick chuckled and leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "Oh, come on. Nothing gets hidden in the BARF mansion; the maids here are sharper than the FBI."
I couldn't help but laugh in agreement. "I agree with that one," I said, playfully pointing my index finger at him. Patrick was spot on - the maids in this mansion had a knack for gossip, and their chatter was practically unstoppable.
"Okay, enough of the talk," Martha's voice interjected, prompting us to shift our attention to the main event. "Let's start the ritual. Start serving, Ava."
"Sure," I responded, my hands steady as I lifted the hot case filled with the delicious tangy pasta I had prepared. I took a moment before proceeding, wanting to express my gratitude. "Before I start serving, I would like to thank you all for joining in. I'm truly honored that you guys are a part of my ritual."
"So sweet," Rosa said, a grateful expression on her face as she placed her hand over her heart. "I can't wait to savor whatever delectable dish is hiding in that hot case."
With a gentle smile, I lifted the lid of the hot case. "Well," I began, "it's not exactly lavish; just a simple pasta dish."
Christian, who had yet to take his seat while everyone else had settled in, beamed with pride. "The pasta that my wife made from scratch," he proudly declared, his eyes aglow with a deep sense of accomplishment. Despite my earlier refusal of his assistance, I couldn't resist his earnest request to lend a hand with the serving now, so he was standing beside me.
"The pasta that my daughter-in-law made with lots of love," Alfred chimed in, his smile radiating warmth as he directed his gaze at me.
Patrick added to the sentiment with a gracious smile. "The pasta that my sister-in-law has been diligently learning to make since the morning."
Despite the occasional quirks of the men in the BARF mansion, their unwavering support for the women of the house was undeniable. It was heartwarming to have such an appreciative audience for my ritual.
"Fine," Martha interjected, her tone practical. "Enough of the cheesy words. We'll know the actual worth only when we taste it." She glanced my way and continued, "Ava, now start serving. Can't wait to have it."
"Of course, Aunt Martha," I replied, mustering a polite smile. Martha was a bit blunt, but this was a joyful occasion, and I didn't want to harbor any ill feelings. With her comment fading from my mind, I moved to Alfred's plate, ready to serve the first portion of the pasta I had prepared.
As I reached to place the pasta on Alfred's plate, he gently halted me with a kind gesture. "Wait," he said, his words carrying a touch of wisdom. "You're supposed to serve your husband first. This gesture symbolizes that he will always be your foremost priority among all the family members. Husband and wife should always keep each other as their top priority because that's the essence of being life partners. People may come and go, but your life partner will always be there." His smile softened, and he concluded his heartfelt speech with, "So, serve him first, love."
"Fine, as you say," I replied to Alfred, acknowledging the tradition. Then, I turned to Christian with a playful shrug and said, "Sorry, bear, you'll have to sit this one out." I was genuinely pleased that he would be enjoying the meal instead of assisting me. Christian had a habit of looking after everyone else but often neglected himself. I gestured toward his seat and continued, "Please, have a seat and savor the delectable pasta crafted by your loving wife, my lord."
"Fine," Christian pulled his chair and settled into it. He turned his plate upside down, preparing it for the meal. "Bless me."
I carefully served the hot, tangy pasta onto his plate, and as I did, the enticing aroma of the dish filled the air. The scent was a delightful blend of rich tomato sauce, garlic, and a hint of basil, creating a mouthwatering sensation that could make anyone's stomach rumble in anticipation.
After adding a generous sprinkle of Parmesan cheese, I grinned and said, "Dig in, my lord."
As I served Christian, I should have moved on to serve the others, but my anticipation for his reaction got the best of me. I stood there, eagerly waiting for his first bite, already envisioning the praise I hoped to receive.
Christian took the fork beside his plate, dug in, and had his first bite. His initial expression of surprise and mild discomfort was unmistakable, and I couldn't help but worry that something had gone terribly wrong with the dish I had worked so hard on.
But then, as he continued to chew, a transformation occurred. A smile slowly crept across his face, and he swallowed the bite. "This… is…" He paused, his jaw visibly clenched as if he was carefully choosing his words. "Umm... DELICIOUS." He finally declared, and my concern evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy.
I couldn't contain my happiness any longer. After hours of hard work, I had achieved the ultimate culinary accolade - my dish wasn't just "delicious," it was "DELICIOUS," and that small but significant distinction filled me with immense satisfaction.
The nervousness that had gripped me earlier had now transformed into confidence. Fueled by Christian's praise, I was filled with happiness and a growing sense of pride. I eagerly looked forward to serving the pasta to the others and basking in their appreciation.
"I'll serve others," I declared with enthusiasm, taking my first step to move away from Christian.
However, before I could even take a second step, Christian abruptly grabbed my hand, stopping me in my tracks. "Wait," he urged urgently, his tone laden with concern. "Don't let anyone else eat this."
Christian's sudden statement sent a wave of shock rippling through the room, leaving all of us, myself included, with puzzled expressions. We couldn't fathom the reason behind his unexpected request, and I anxiously awaited his explanation.
"Why?" I stammered, my voice betraying my confusion. "Didn't you just say it's delicious? Why can't I let anyone eat this?" My questions hung in the air, mirroring the uncertainty that had descended upon us all.
To be continued…
- Writer
