Ahmed returned to the living room, carefully holding the wooden bowl,
As if it contained more than just food. (17)
Perhaps it held a homeland, a memory, and a part of his heart.
He sat quietly near Misaki, and extended the dish towards her.
Ahmed (in Japanese, with a warm smile):
"Here... this is Aseeda. A traditional Yemeni dish. It will give you some energy back."
Misaki hesitated for a moment, then took the small spoon.
She dipped it into the golden mixture,
And lifted it to her mouth... with slight caution, and a strange anticipation.
The first bite.
The world within her quieted.
The ghee, honey, and warm flour blended in her mouth,
Releasing a rush of tenderness in her chest, unlike any food she had ever known.
Her eyes widened in childlike wonder.
Misaki (in Japanese, looking at him slowly):
"This is... very delicious! Strange... but it's warm, as if I know it."
Ahmed chuckled lightly, watching her devour another spoonful.
Ahmed (proudly):
"I love to cook very much. I learned it from my mother.
I make many Yemeni dishes... and even some desserts."
He paused for a moment, then added in a quiet voice, gesturing to himself with a sincere smile:
Ahmed:
"I am Muslim, so I don't eat pork, and I don't drink alcohol.
And anything I prepare... will always be halal."
Misaki looked up at him again,
But this time, it wasn't just a look of curiosity.
It was a look of respect, and interest... and perhaps the soft beginning of admiration.
And between the third spoonful and her widening gaze,
A new friendship was being born... in the quiet of the evening,
And between two spoonfuls of Aseeda.