Cooking Christmas dinner with Thalindra was, without a doubt, the most nerve-wracking, hilarious, and chaotic experience I'd ever had.
The kitchen was still recovering from the cookie incident earlier, but Thalindra had declared that the evening's feast would be a masterpiece—if I didn't ruin it, that is.
"Alright," she said, tying her apron around her waist with the confidence of a seasoned chef. Her sleek hair was tied back, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that hinted at equal parts mischief and determination.
"We're making roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and something green so it looks like we care about nutrition. Got it?"
I blinked at her, already overwhelmed. "Can't we just... eat the cookies and call it a night?"
Thalindra snorted. "Absolutely not. Christmas dinner is sacred. Now, chop those potatoes."