The moment Layla opened the door, a wave of warmth hit me. It wasn't just the temperature of the house it was the scent of spices and fresh cooking that immediately filled the air, the hum of laughter and voices carrying from somewhere deeper inside.
I stepped in behind her, my eyes scanning the space. It was cozy but elegant, with colorful tiles framing the entryway and warm wooden furniture scattered throughout. The walls were painted a soft cream, accented with vibrant artwork and family photos.
A large woven rug sprawled across the living room floor, and potted plants stood proudly in nearly every corner, their green leaves catching the sunlight streaming through the windows.
The air smelled divine savory and rich, with hints of garlic, saffron, and roasted peppers. I recognized the dishes immediately. Spanish food. Layla's mother was clearly going all out.