Chapter 39: The "Master Chef"

As Xavier moved around the kitchen with impressive ease, Zara's curiosity only grew. She hadn't expected him to be able to cook so naturally, with movements that showed he was clearly used to this. He wasn't just tossing things around; he knew what he was doing—like someone who'd been in a kitchen way more often than she'd have guessed for a suit-and-tie guy. Meanwhile, she stood to the side, watching closely, feeling a bit like a beginner shadowing a master chef.

After a while, she cleared her throat. "Need any help?" she asked, genuinely hoping he'd give her something simple enough that wouldn't risk setting off smoke alarms.

Xavier paused, glancing over his shoulder with an arched brow. "Help?" he repeated, as though the word was foreign to him in this context.

"Yes, help," she insisted. "I mean, I can at least pass ingredients, can't I?"

He looked half-amused, half-disbelieving, but eventually, he shrugged. "Alright then," he said, "if you're so keen on it—pass me the pepper."

Eager to prove her usefulness, Zara handed him the pepper with a flourish. She quickly found herself put to work as his designated helper, though it was pretty clear Xavier didn't trust her with anything even slightly complicated. When he needed tomatoes, she passed them over, trying not to look too pleased with herself. When he requested the onions, she handed them off with enthusiasm. She even washed the vegetables, taking care not to overdo it this time, all while throwing him proud glances every chance she got. It was like she was the kitchen's unsung hero.

In between passing him ingredients and washing whatever he needed, Zara couldn't resist peppering him with questions. "So," she asked, watching him as he expertly stirred a sauce, "how did you get so good at this?"

He smirked, eyes focused on the pan. "People pick up skills. Not everyone considers cooking a survival skill."

"Survival?" She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "I'll have you know, instant noodles can be a survival skill."

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Sure, but I don't see any instant noodles here."

She pursed her lips, secretly making a mental note to stock up on noodles the next time she went shopping. "Touché," she admitted with a grin.

After the food was finally plated and set in front of them, Zara couldn't help but gaze at it with admiration. Xavier had made it look almost too good to eat. She inhaled the aroma, practically drooling as she waited for him to join her. When he finally took a seat across from her, she didn't waste any time before digging in, savoring the first bite.

It was delicious. The kind of delicious that made her wish she'd known about his cooking skills sooner.

She couldn't help but sigh as she chewed, practically melting at the flavor. "Not bad," she said, trying to sound casual but unable to hide her delight.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, clearly seeing through her attempt to act unimpressed. "Not bad?"

She shrugged, hiding a grin. "I mean, I did most of the work, after all. It's not surprising it turned out great."

Xavier blinked, setting his fork down to give her a bemused look. "Most of the work?"

"Yes, actually," she replied with a straight face, adopting a tone that was clearly mock-serious. "I passed the pepper, washed the vegetables—and I even turned off the gas! Honestly, without me, I'm not sure how this would've turned out."

A hint of a smile played on his lips, and he crossed his arms. "So you want credit for 'assisting'?"

"Credit?" she repeated, pretending to be scandalized. "This meal is practically my masterpiece. I'd say it's about 80% my effort, actually."

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. "80%? For passing things and turning off the gas?"

"Exactly," she replied, holding back her own grin. "Think about it: without me, there'd be no pepper in this dish, no fresh vegetables, and probably no… properly turned-off gas."

Xavier just shook his head, laughing softly as he took another bite. "If you say so, 'Master Chef.'"

"Oh, I do," she replied, giving him a cheeky grin. "You're welcome for my *hard work*."

They continued eating, the food disappearing quickly as Zara happily went back for seconds, claiming she had to sample it thoroughly to make sure her "masterpiece" was up to par. Xavier watched her with an amused look, clearly enjoying her playful antics.

By the time she'd polished off her plate and was leaning back with a contented sigh, Zara had almost forgotten the fact that she'd essentially done nothing in the kitchen. She felt accomplished, even if the "hard work" was more in spirit than actual effort.

After a moment, she stretched and stood up, looking around the kitchen, which still bore a few traces of her earlier chaos. "You know what?" she said, glancing back at Xavier. "Since I'm such a generous person, I'll clean up. It's only fair."

Xavier gave her a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I mean, you did do '80%' of the work, after all."

Zara laughed, tossing a dish towel in his direction. "Oh, don't worry, I've got this. Consider it my gift for allowing you to assist *me* in the kitchen today."

As she began cleaning up with a grin on her face, she couldn't help but feel that, in some strange way, the shared kitchen experience had brought them a little closer. It was just one meal, one lighthearted exchange, but for the first time since they'd been in the apartment together, it actually felt like they were finding a bit of common ground—even if it was built on her exaggerated claims of "culinary genius."

And as she scrubbed away the remnants of her "masterpiece," Zara couldn't help but smile, feeling a small flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd survive this strange arrangement after all.