86 days after...

—We can go out?.

He was confused by my question.

—Are you asking my permission?.

I expressed myself badly, it was difficult to ask him to go out, he was always reluctant to my ideas, like the one at the toy store.

—No, if you want to go out with me, I mean, go outside and...

—Where do you want to go?—he was already on the defensive.

—I want you to cut my hair.

—Okay.

He led me to a different barbershop, one even closer. I guess he wasn't looking for another nervous breakdown on my part, in a way, it was good.

—Are you sure?.

—Yes, I'm handsome, everything looks good on me.

He shoved my head down with a grunt and couldn't help but laugh a little.

—We'll see—he teasingly brought the scissors closer with some amusement in his eyes.

Unlike the last time, he decided to leave me facing the mirror. I could have looked at him during the process, but nevertheless closed my eyes. I had a blind faith in Rais to the point that his little provocation was nothing more than a joke, I did not distrust him nor was afraid that he would ruin my head, strangely felt he was incapable of doing it.

—That's it, I won't cut my hair so you don't try to get revenge—he took off my cape and i opened my eyes.

And i was not wrong.

I smiled, he had improved a lot from the last time and this time I didn't have any holes. Slide my hand through my hair feeling lighter noticing how short it was. It was almost a nightmare for a past me but right now I loved it.

—Do you see if I am handsome?—I looked at him in the mirror reflection with an arrogant smile that made him roll his eyes—Your fragile masculinity won't let you admit it?—shook my clothes when saw some hair.

—I could tell you something, but I think you're going to run away like the last time said something nice to you, you insolent little one...—he left the cape on the back of the seat—So I'll just say that did a good job.

I blushed when remembered that day and turned away from the mirror.

—Don't you want me to cut it?.

—I will let it grow more

The fact of following it by bicycle... I don't know, it became a habit, I suppose that humans are capable of adapting to any type of environment and situations, it does not mean that it is simple, it is a long process, but, in the end, one ends up adapting, right?

—Do you want to eat something special?

—Why? you ran out of ideas for super nutritious dinners 90% vegetables—I noticed the grimace on his face from a distance and knew he was smiling—Or is it some important date?

—Maybe at some point it was...

I assumed that he would not tell me and did not ask, instead I accelerated the march to get to his side receiving his gaze. I guess had curiosity on my face because he rolled his eyes and speed up a bit. I returned to his side, standing on the pedals, exceeding his height.

—In that case I will surprise you—I had his absolute attention—I will prepare the best stew you have ever tried.

—Something tells me that it is the only thing you know how to prepare.

—And that "something" is wrong, I have a wide range of skills that you do not know, including my culinary skills that I am sure you are not listening to me.

—And you are correct—he dodged me, getting ahead.

—You are the one who loses the opportunity to meet me.

—I know you more than want.

—I'm not that predictable if that's what you think—I assured after stopping the bike when we arrived—I can really surprise you...

—Really? well i don't want you to—he came in after me and slammed the door—I already received a lot of surprises and I really don't like them.

i notice the threat in his voice, or maybe it was my imagination, I don't know, but it served to keep me at bay with my curiosities and nonsense. I didn't say anything else, I went to the kitchen, he followed me but I threw him out as soon as I could; If I was going to make Martha's stew, it had to be 110% concentrated. It was nostalgic to prepare it, but couldn't even stop to think about it, because I'm bad at cooking and it was the only thing knew how to do well if was really attentive, couldn't distract myself remembering when one afternoon i helped Martha prepare it when she couldn't get up from his wheelchair, I could not put myself to remember how difficult it was to cook the day after his funeral for Mr. Beltram because he did not remember anything of what happened, and less could I stop despite the fact that in all the times I had dinner with him, he said that he liked my food.

—Shit!—I put my hand aside when the boiling sauce splashed on me.

I took my hand to my mouth and pulled it away when it hurt, I cursed a little more and set the table. I went to find him before serving but it wasn't much effort since I saw him in the living room on the sofa looking at the painting.

What do you think of my family?

—That's it, come before it gets cold.

When he took the silverware to his mouth, tasting the stew, the memory of his mocking Mr. Beltram's corpse next to his vegetable garden came to my mind.

"It will work as compost."

Getting angry at that moment about it would be stupid, I didn't do it at the time for fear of his reaction and I wouldn't do it now because it would no longer be of any use.

—Is it poisoned?—he asked with some seriousness.

—That? No, in no way, why-?

—So why don't you eat?.

I looked at my intact plate, my hands were joined on the table and certainly would have doubted myself.

—I didn't think you really would have done it—he took another bite to his mouth— Especially since there is no poison here.

I grabbed the silverware thinking if he had looked for some poison or just realized, but dropped the fork because of a slight pain.

—What happen?—He leaned forward when I took my hand.

—I burned, that's all...—I had left a red mark on the back of my hand, I was hoping it would go away.

Spoiler: It doesn't!*

—Let me see it

Spoiler2: Just kidding, if it does, after three days.*

I held out my hand to him, he took it carefully and examined it with his eyes, it didn't take long for him to let go of me.

—Maybe you should save your cooking skills, you could do yourself some serious harm.

—And you tell me?—I laughed without much grace pointing to his still bandaged hand that was hiding an ugly wound on his thumb—You are not the most appropriate to say it—I tried the food and liked it, it was not my best version, but he could not say that it was bad.

—You are right, but it doesn't seem necessary to me.

—You are like a controlling husband—i smiled at his expression—"You're right, but I don't think it's necessary for you to work" "Why don't you let me take care of it? Can't you see that you can't do it right?"—I smiled even more for his gesture—No, Rais, my parents weren't like that, they loved each other and worked together, I just thought it was funny.

—Well I'm not your husband-

—You are not that lucky.

I laughed at his expression, instead, he dispose to continue eating ignoring my existence.