As we sat at the table with each other's meals ahead of us, with its scent brushing upon our noses. We prepared ourselves to eat, trying to ignore the disaster we once called a kitchen. Her eyes glared toward the meal she made, before she looked up toward me.

“By the way. Loser also has to clean the kitchen”. She just made that up, I hope she realizes this is her loss. I took up a fork that was beside me, stabbed my opponent's creation, breaking a piece of her stuffed omelet.

I took a bite that felt as if I had fallen into god’s arms, I felt as if crying would be the right thing to do. Giving this masterpiece anything below perfect would be disrespecting food worldwide, but I can’t give her that satisfaction she doesn’t need. I set in place all things drama class taught me… which was nothing, and feigned I wasn't impressed.

She took a bite of my meal and stared into my eyes, for an inch of happiness I relayed. But I won't let her have it, I swear I’ll win, especially after how she started off the competition, using an I love you to fry my brain. Mind games won’t work on me Stella.

“So how was it?” She said with an eye piercing glare, causing a scant break in my acting, but it won't be enough to find the truth.

“It was alright, how about mine. Is it competition winning?” I glared back. As we did a stare off like we were ⚫ne Pi⚫ce characters. I tried thinking of ways to win against this non-model, but my mind just came up short, what could I say to win.

“Hmmm, It seems you can't accept my cooking is better, Husband”

“No, it seems I have accepted it isn’t my, Wife”

As I took another bite of the omelet, I was on the brink of my act collapsing like a falling glass.

“I’ll make you a deal, If you tell me how you really feel about my cooking. I’ll help clean the dishes, How does that sound”

I have to think about this, I would give her the respect she deserves… But that would mean I lose, even though I extensively talked about winning, I won’t let her get that satisfaction. Call me escan⚫r sin of pride, I wo- .

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“It was good, actually amazing”, I was dumbfounded, by my own words. Why would I say that, have I gone insane?

“I guess the poison has worked goodbye, Emmanuel” She said, getting ready to stand up.

“I’m just joking, Ah I love this satisfaction you can’t experience, haha”.

I sat there watching Stella do a dumb victory dance, stupefied from my words actually wondering if she poisoned me.

Even if it was a dumb loss, a bet's a bet, even how dumb it was. “Stella, you promised to wash dishes, so pipe down and come back to poorman’s territory.” Her face gave an annoyed expression but she had to accept it.

*

Whilst washing dishes, my wife started smiling. I didn’t understand but I enjoyed her company while doing this chore.

“Emmanuel, when I said I love you I really did mean it. I missed these times and I hope it never goes away. I'm thankful I managed to marry you.” Her soothing words hit deep, deeper than any arrow. But I related to her words, I had a crush on Stella, when we were in high school, have I forgotten those times I held dear to me.

“I hope so too, I hope we can have a good marriage”. Something clicked in my brain.

I set the dish down, and walked toward Stella. Her eyes met with mine, as she looked untoward at me. I opened my arms and hugged her, nothing in my mind but the moment at hand.

She opened her arms and hugged me back. Her eyes shined brighter, as her body's warmth gave comfort. I leaned in, to only feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

“Y-You should answer t-that” She said embarrassingly.

I angrily picked up my phone, to see it was mom again.

“Hello”

“Honey, ask Stella if she likes fish”

“I think she does, mom”

“Ok, did you pack yet, your flight is tomorrow.”

“Right, I’ll go start now, bye mom”

“Wait, please don’t forget my gifts”

“Ok mom”

I got off the phone and awkwardly stared at Stella, not knowing what to say, but tried to fill the silence. “Ah, we should finish these dishes and start packing”

“Y-Yeah you're right, ahem”

Why did you have to call mom now.