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“I insist on cooking. It’s just a small injury” Shin rummaged through the cabinets for a pot with his uninjured right arm. He had just discharged himself from the infirmary, in the dead of night of all times - just to report back to Lena, when she had already ordered him to rest for a full day.
“A small injury? You’re wearing a cast! Please, let me help…” No matter how serious an injury is, Lena’s concern shoots up the roof.
“Are you sure? It’s late. If you’re still hungry you can find something in th-”
Shin was nudged aside when she started to gather ingredients. A small kitchen was installed within her quarters if she wanted to make a quick snack without having to traverse the facility’s long hallways. She attended a cooking class a few years ago and the only recipe she can remember was spaghetti. It didn’t taste good, and her instructor definitely made a mental note to restrict her usage of knives. But it’s different now. She has Shin to seek guidance when needed.
She got out the garlic and broke them into pieces and set them on a chopping board. Time to chop. She stared intently at the knife. Shin had thought she was plotting a murder instead of cooking.
Unbeknownst to her, the knife was already on top of the clove. Holding the knife was Shin, a head taller, behind her. She was relieved that he couldn’t see the hot flush on her face.
“Whack the knife with your hand, we’re going to smash the clove.”
Lena compiled and hit the blade with a tiny face. “Did it work?”
“Lena, you’ll bruise yourself if you use your knuckles. Are you hurt?” His tone a flurry of worry, taking her hand in his for inspection. She wished she didn’t flinch at his contact.
“It…” did, “It’s fine! I’ll chop them now,” his touch burned into her skin, soothing the temporary pain.
To her, dicing garlic was the same as dicing tomatoes in small cubes. She firmly pressed into the clove every time the blade hit the board to ensure everything was cut through. She still wasn’t sure why her peers hailed her as “the person with the slowest knifing”, though evident by the long intervals between each hit.
The silence was paused when Shin curled his hand around hers, guiding her to position the knife the proper way. “Garlic is supposed to be cut in tiny chunks. That’s called mincing. What you were doing is chopping, where they’re slightly bigger.”
She tensed up like a deer caught in headlights. She really needed to attend more classes. The hand in control guided hers and slowly minced, each hit going up and down almost instantly, more swift than her previous. When she got the rhythm right, Shin hesitantly let go.
“It’s better to go faster, but we can take it slow.”
Take it slow. She never knew she would hear these words coming out from him, but they filled her with assurance. She could take it slow with him when it comes to matters like these.
Shin eventually had to guide her through the entire process, answering every question she had clearly. Lena wanted to try handling the stove, but decided that he could manage it best, as her eyes gleamed at the spark of the flame. Unfazed by the occasional splatter of hot vapor, he stirred in the sauce while she stood beside to pour in the diced ingredients. All worries were swept away by the thrill of preparing their late night snack. Soon the scent of paste filled her tiny kitchen.
The pasta was plated and ready to eat. Lena stared at their work with child-like eyes, and dug in with a forkful of spaghetti. She noticed him staring and quickly wiped her mouth stained with sauce.
“You did well, Lena.” he commented, with a gaze that reminded her of the day she met him.
Mission success.