Archive of Our Own

Shux, naparami na naman ‘yung luto ko.

Stacey's gaze lingered on the simmering pot of Sinigang in front of her, the tangy aroma of tamarind wafting through her humble chicken - a symphony of sour and savory. The steam rose lazily, curling in the warm glow of the overhead light as if inviting her to savor the comfort within. Cooking had always been her refuge, her kitchen a world where she could lose herself and forget the monotony of her office job—a job that drained her, leaving her restless for something more fulfilling.

Once, Stacey had dreamed of becoming a flight attendant, envisioning herself traveling to different parts of the world, tasting the world’s finest cuisines firsthand. But life, with its unpredictable detours, had other plans. Now, she found herself grounded, anchored to a modest apartment close to work. Here, in this tiny kitchen with its pink checkered tiles and scratched countertops, Stacey nurtured her passion, channeling her wanderlust into the meals she cooked. Moments spent in her kitchen are what she looks forward to in her days - the hum of the refrigerator, the rhythmic chop of vegetables, the bubbling of stews, and the sizzling sound of frying. It was her own sanctuary.

She spends her free time trying to research and learn various recipes she found online, tweaking them to fit her taste. She then posts them on her food blog and Instagram account, filled with carefully plated dishes and vibrant captions and it has started to gain traction. Opportunities followed—offers for sponsorships and collaborations. While flattering, Stacey was selective. She wasn’t in it for the money. She’s doing this out of love, to fill her heart of joy, and not her pockets. It still helps with the food expenses though so she’s glad to stumble upon some of them.

The comments often praised how appetizing her dishes looked, their vibrant colors practically jumping off the screen, eliciting mouth-watering reactions from her audience, feeling the warmth that home-cooked meals exude. Yet, as much as the compliments warmed her heart, Stacey couldn’t help but wonder: how would it turn out if someone actually tasted her cooking? Would it bring them the same joy her photos promised, or perhaps something even better ?

As she stirred the pot, tasting a spoonful of the broth, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The tanginess was perfect, just like how her late Lola used to make it. For Stacey, cooking wasn’t just about feeding the body—it was about feeding the soul. And in moments like these, surrounded by the scents of home and the warmth of her craft, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Now, standing in her pink pajamas and cat-shaped slippers, she remained staring at the pot of Sinigang. Her portion was already set aside on the table, but the pot was still more than half full. Stacey loved cooking—no doubt about that—but her appetite couldn’t keep up with her enthusiasm. She’s even barely finishing the average portion of the food she cooks. At times, she feels the need to cook more, maybe add another dish here and there, but she’d hate to waste the food. Before she could figure out what to do with it, her phone buzzed.

+63934*******

Ma’am shopee po, dito na po sa baba.

Stacey made her way downstairs to collect her package, hopping into the lone elevator of her apartment complex on her way back up. The smell of fried chicken and pizza hit her before she noticed a tall woman already inside, holding a bunch of plastic bags of takeout. The woman’s auburn hair stood out against her black hoodie and gray sweatpants, her unnecessarily sharp jawline accentuating her graceful features. To add to that, she had long limbs and her body proportions were almost unfair. I mean how could such a face be as small as that? She seemed familiar—her neighbor across the hall, Stacey realized after a moment. She didn’t want to act so overtly friendly but she also wanted to secure a good night's sleep.

Trying to mask snoopiness with subtlety, Stacey offered a smile. “Hi! Ikaw yung sa unit 307 diba? I live across you.” Her eyes glanced at the bags of takeout and the short-haired woman’s gaze followed after. “Are you having a party ba? Mukhang marami kang guests ah”

The woman avoided her gaze, and for a moment Stacey was worried she had crossed a line. The short-haired woman shifted awkwardly before mumbling, “A-ah hindi. It’s for me”

“Lahat yan??”, Stacey exclaimed before she could stop herself. So much for being subtle . She means no offense though - it’s just… surprising. The woman stiffened, her fingers twitching against the plastic bags, she followed through with a discrete nod. Stacey’s eyes unconsciously drifted, tracing the tall lady’s dark silhouette from head to toe. She didn’t mean to check her out like that but how could someone so lean-looking and slender finish all of this food?

“D-di naman lahat. Nilalagay ko sa ref yung iba tapos iinitin ko na lang” she explained quietly, clearly embarrassed.

Stacey bit her lip, resisting the urge to comment on the health implications. Instead, she nodded. “Ahh, okay,” the silence stretching awkwardly as the elevator ascended.

It wasn’t too long after that moment though that Stacey ended up knocking at Gwen’s unit, fidgeting with the hem of her pink shirt.

“Hello ulit,” Stacey said, offering a shy smile and a small wave. “I know you just had takeout but I was wondering if you’d like to eat Sinigang for dinner instead. Naparami kasi yung luto ko.” Stacey says carefully, trying not to sound too pushy. Her tall neighbor remained standing, a slight surprise apparent in her face but the stoic expression she had during the elevator ride earlier was still evident.

“Kung nakakain ka na. Okay lang naman. Sorry for bothe—”

“Okay,” her tall neighbor said, cutting her off.

“Okay?”

“Okay, as in I’d love to have Sinigang for dinner” The offer was too good to refuse and Stacey’s expecting eyes made it hard for Gwen to say no. There was something about this girl’s presence and smile that lightened whatever load she never thought she was carrying.

Relief flooded Stacey. “I’m Stacey, by the way,” she said, extending her hand.

“Gwen,” the woman replied, her grip firm but brief.

Inside Stacey’s unit, the comforting aroma of the Sinigang filled the air. Gwen sat stiffly at the table, both of her hands discreetly folded on her lap, her eyes wandering over the pink sequin cushions on the sofa, the Hello Kitty mittens hanging on the fridge, and the pastel pink coasters.

“Favorite color mo ba yung pink?” Gwen asked, her voice as neutral as her expression.

“Ayy masyado bang halata?” Stacey laughed nervously, earning a subtle nod from her guest.

Stacey ladled a portion into a bowl, the sound of liquid pouring over tender fish and soft vegetables filling the room. The broth was an opaque golden-brown, speckled with flecks of tamarind pulp and a sheen of oil from the Salmon. 

“Help yourself. Tapos na rin ako eh, sayo na yan lahat.”

Gwen hesitated, scanning Stacey’s face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she took a spoonful of soup, blowing gently before taking the first sip. She then takes a slice of salmon, puts it inside her mouth and immediately follows it up with rice. And another… then another. The broth hit her tongue like a burst of warmth on a rainy day — refreshingly sour but perfectly balanced by the richness of Salmon. Her eyes widened slightly, the flavors of tamarind waking her up and the fresh salmon basically melting inside her mouth.

The room was filled with nothing but the clinking of spoons and the occasional hums of appreciation from Gwen. Stacey probably looked like a maniac grinning from ear to ear looking —no, staring ; as Gwen’s cheeks puffed as she chewed.

“Is there something on my face?”, Gwen piqued. 

“Ah! wala wala! Go! Kain ka lang.” Stacey said clearly a bit embarrassed.

Stacey’s eyes lit up in amazement watching Gwen practically devour the dish. The pot of Sinigang was nearly empty, and Gwen’s plate was spotless - devoid of any trace of food. She didn’t expect the slender girl to be such a big eater. She finished it all.

“Gagi, ang sarap,” Gwen said so seriously which made it hard for Stacey to contain her chuckle. She set her bowl down, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips quirking into a faint smile breaking through her otherwise stoic demeanor.

Ngumingiti ka rin pala. 

The dilated pupils of Gwen’s eyes and the mumbles of joy she probably wasn’t aware she was making while chewing were enough praise already, but hearing her say those words was the cherry on top. It filled Stacey with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was reminded of when she first got into cooking. It was when she heard her mother compliment her on a dish she stumbled upon one day while scrolling on Pinterest. There was the satisfaction of finding your own food delicious. To add to that, the joy of sharing a meal with others while hearing praises about her cooking sparked something in her.

That night marked the beginning of many shared meals—and maybe something more.

One evening, Stacey found herself craving for the flavors of Japan. The gentle patter of rain brought by habagat against her windows set the perfect mood for cozy cooking nights. She made three bowls of ramen for consecutive days — tonkotsu with its creamy pork broth, miso with its rich umami flavors, and the light yet savory shoyu. Each bowl was topped with glistening chashu, soft-boiled eggs with jammy yolks, and perfectly sliced green onions. All of which she shared with Gwen as they spent the rainy nights in a contest of who could slurp the longest without breaking the noodle strands. In the end, it just ended with them fanning their mouths and giggling because they failed to account for how hot the soup was. 

Later that week, Stacey made onigiris - rice balls wrapped in crisp nori. Each one held a surprise filling: tangy umeboshi, savory tuna mayo, and sweet teriyaki chicken, and she made Gwen guess which was which. However, in true Gwen fashion, the latter was just having the time of her life biting into each one with unabashed delight and rambling unadulterated praises about how delicious they were, the guessing game completely forgotten leaving Stacey’s already pink cheeks intensify further.

The following week, the two ventured into Korean cuisine. Stacey prepared a feast of samgyeopsal, the aroma of grilled beef filling her apartment, paired with spicy and chewy tteokbokki on the side. Gwen had bought premium imported beef and gave it to Stacey one time. The latter was uncertain in having such a dish on an ordinary day with nothing to celebrate, but the short-haired girl argued there was no need for an occasion to eat good food (and maybe their precious little shared meal moments were enough of a reason). At one moment, they burst into a fit of laughter when both of them reached out to place a piece of meat on the other’s plate at the same time, their chopsticks clinking mid-air. It was during that meal that they discovered their shared propensity and resiliency in handling spice. Gwen’s eyes lit up as she explained how she had always wanted to try these dishes after seeing them in K-dramas, the characters gathering around sizzling grills and steaming pots intrigued her. Stacey, on the other hand, was a dedicated K-pop fan which fueled her curiosity about Korean cuisine. It went on like that for weeks.

“Stacey, ang galing mo naman” Gwen would always mutter sweetly while standing behind Stacey, looking over her shoulder, her neck stretched with hands clasped tightly behind her back patiently waiting and cheering — providing that additional energy boost for Stacey. The latter would always respond with a giggle no matter how hard she tried to suppress it and sometimes a high-pitched voice only reserved for affectionate baby talk would come out.

“Siyempre! Sasabihin mo yan! Nakikinabang ka eh!” Stacey would doubt.

“Uy hindi ah! Magaling ka talaga.” Gwen would always reassure.

Eventually, their shared meals went beyond dinnertime. One lazy weekend afternoon, Stacey decided to make turon, the crispy caramelized banana rolls from her childhood. Gwen had offered to help, joining her in the kitchen, unintentionally burning one side of the turon and her hand in the process. It’s not that she was not knowledgeable in the kitchen —well, maybe a little, but a certain pink figure dancing and swaying, kept drawing her attention. Stacey immediately pulled her aside, dabbing ointment on the small burn before carefully wrapping it with a pink Care Bear band-aid. Gwen concluded that the unexpected touch and warmth of Stacey’s breath blowing on her finger gave her a higher degree of burn than the pan itself. Gwen wasn’t allowed to touch anything hot in her kitchen again, at least for a while.

Stacey’s pink kitchen was slowly infiltrated by tiny splashes of orange here and there - hints of another presence - utensils, bowls, place and most notably, an orange mug alongside her pastel pink mug that had a graphic drawing of a koala on it which Stacey believed suited Gwen so well considering her meek demeanor. The latter tried to pay back Stacey for the meals every time but was always met with adamant refusal so Gwen settled in offering her dishwashing services instead. After all, it was only fair to wash the dishes of the person who cooked for you. She’d still insist on buying ingredients from time to time though, and maybe sneak in some ingredients for her personal cravings.

Every time Gwen stepped into Stacey’s unit, she followed the tantalizing scents wafting from the kitchen like a moth to a flame, her stomach growling in anticipation. She shared the warmth of home-cooked meals and long conversations with her neighbor. Gwen always listened intently with utmost genuine curiosity. With each bite, she felt like she was learning more about Stacey—her family, her memories, and the quiet way she showed her love. In those moments, over steaming bowls and plates of food, their connection deepened, turning simple meals into something far more meaningful. With each meal shared, they found themselves falling into this domestic rhythm without realizing it.

Stacey:

Gwen, rain check for tonight’s dinner? I don’t think I can cook today.

Gwen:

Is everything okay?

It’s been hours - well, 30 minutes; and Gwen hasn’t received any sort of response from Stacey yet. Kahit seen man lang sana . While Stacey had no obligation to cook for her, their shared meals had quietly become a cherished routine, a small anchor at the end of Gwen’s day. She tried to reason with herself—Stacey could be out shopping, enjoying a night with friends, or maybe even out on a date. Gwen frowned and shook her head, brushing off that last thought. She’s probably just busy.

But what if she wasn’t? 

What if something was wrong?

Gwen found herself standing outside Stacey’s door, hand raised and hesitating mid-air. 

What if I’m just overreacting? 

She doesn’t wanna be perceived as clingy or worse, demanding. 

But then again, what if Stacey needed help? 

Pushing aside her doubts, Gwen knocked. 

Three soft knocks. Pause.

Another three. Pause.

Last three.

No answer.

Maybe she’s not home . 

Just as Gwen was about to leave, the door creaked open. A groggy Stacey appeared, bundled in a pink fuzzy blanket. Her face was pale, her nose red, and her eyes half-opened— heavy with exhaustion. 

“Hi Gwen, I’m afraid I can’t co— * coughs* —can’t cook tonight” Stacey managed to say, her voice nasally.

“May sakit ka pala! Ba’t di ka nagsabi?,” Gwen’s voice rose laced with concern.

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” Stacey replied with a sheepish smile.

“You’re never a bother,” Gwen said firmly, guiding Stacey back inside. 

They went straight to bed as the latter lay down and drifted to sleep almost immediately. Gwen glanced around Stacey’s room. It was surprisingly untidy (by Stacey’s standards, that is) —medicine packets scattered on the nightstand, crumpled tissues on the floor, and a stray blanket tossed over the chair. For someone as meticulously neat as Stacey, this small clutter was telling. She must be feeling awful.

Gwen paced Stacey’s humble kitchen, staring at the fridge like it held the secrets of the universe. 

“Okay, Gwen. Stacey’s cooked for you a million times. Time to return the favor. Kaya mo ‘to.”

She grabbed a pot and rummaged through a random assortment of vegetables. 

“Tinola. It’s simple, right? A classic. Stacey said it’s her favorite. This will work.” Or at least, she hoped it would.

It took two hours — two chaotic, panic-filled hours and a few frantic phone calls to her mother. Gwen somehow managed to burn chicken ( in a soup ), mistake kundol for green papaya, and accidentally drop a clove of garlic into the pot. By the end of it, the kitchen looked like a battlefield, and the tinola… well, it looked like soup.

Gwen poured the fresh concoction into one of Stacey’s ceramic bowls adorned with pink ribbon patterns next to her larger orange one. “Lord, ikaw na bahala” Gwen muttered to herself, carrying the bowl to Stacey’s now-tidy bedside. 

She observed how peaceful the sick girl looked in her sleep, her breathing soft but labored. Her bright skin almost sparkled from the sunrays escaping from her bedroom window. The tiny specs of sunlight peeking through the blinds caused the sleeping beauty to furrow her eyebrows and writhe in her sleep as her face slightly grimaced. Gwen reaches out her right hand to shield her face, the former tracing the soft features of her face as serenity enveloped her under the shade. After staring for a bit too long, she stood up to close the blinds fully. She forgot she came here to feed Stacey just in time for her medicine.

Stacey stirred as Gwen gently touched her shoulder. Half-asleep, the former nuzzled into Gwen’s hand, mistaking it for a pillow. Gwen froze, her cheeks warming at how endearing Stacey looked, however it quilt turned to a frown when she felt the heat radiating from Stacey’s feverish skin. She carefully wakes up the sleeping girl. 

Stacey's eyes fluttered open, as she sank further into her blanket, her hair messy yet still looking graceful. Her voice, raspy yet soft, “Gwen? Bakit ka nandito? Dapat nagpapahinga ka na—” 

“Tinola” Gwen declared, setting the bowl on the cleared nightstand. Stacey blinked at her in confusion. “Don’t worry buhay pa naman kusina mo”

Stacey blinked one last time, too tired to process what Gwen said. “Ikaw? Nagluto? I thought you don't cook?”

“I don’t. So ‘wag ka masyadong mag expect” Gwen said, fidgeting with the spoon. Stacey chuckled weakly, letting Gwen help her sit up. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Before Stacey could reach for the spoon, Gwen beat her to it, her fingers brushing against Stacey’s in a fleeting but electric touch, sending a quiet thrill through both of them. She blew on it before holding it up close to Stacey’s lips. Usually, Stacey would protest that she could do it herself (because she’s a strong independent woman) but Gwen really looked endearing with her eyebrows knitted together in focus and cheeks slightly puffed as she cooled down the soup.

The warm broth slid down her throat, soothing her, both physically and emotionally.

Gwen watched her nervously, wringing her hands. “Kumusta?” eyes wide in anticipation.

Stacey smiled, her pale face lighting up just a bit. “Well, it’s soup.”

Gwen pouted, and just when Stacey thought she couldn’t possibly look more endearing.

“What I mean is, nawalan ata ako ng panlasa dahil sa sipon so I really can’t say much. For what it’s worth mukha namang masarap.”, she said with a smile that reached her eyes. “Thank you Gwen. Na appreciate ko nang sobra. Feeling ko magaling nako nito bukas.”

“Di ka lang pala magaling magluto. Pati pala mangbola. Baka nga sinusumpa na ako ng manok sa langit kasi napunta sa wala ‘yung buhay na sinakripisyo niya para maging tinola”

“Di ka lang pala mahilig kumain. Joker ka rin pala” Stacey laughed, her voice still hoarse but full of genuine warmth. “Gwen. Seriously, thank you. Alam mo ba, no one’s ever cooked for me before aside from my family. Kahit man malayo ‘to sa usual tinola ko, it still feels… special.”

“Specially bad?” Gwen teased, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks.

“No,” Stacey said softly, looking at Gwen. “Special because it’s from you. You didn’t have to do this, pero ginawa mo pa rin.”

Gwen looked away, suddenly at a loss for words. “Oh. Uh. Well, you always cook for me, so… it’s only fair. Saka kung may problema, pwede ka namang humingi ng tulong. You have me.”

“You’re the kind of person who makes people feel cared for. Eh ikaw, sino bang nag-aalaga sa’yo?” Gwen trailed off.

Stacey reached out, lightly patting Gwen’s hand, her heart warmer after hearing those words, “Thanks, Gwen. Bawi ako pag magaling na ako.”

“No need. ‘Ni wala nga sa kalingkingan ng luto mo yung ginawa ko.” the short-haired girl said timidly.

“Hindi mo naman kailangan tapatan yung luto ko to make me feel cared for, Gwen. Kahit sa mga random compliments mo or sa pagiging... ikaw lang, nararamdaman ko na” the sick girl responded with a gentle squeeze of Gwen’s hand. For Stacey, it wasn’t just the food, it was the person who made it.

“Next time, you’re teaching me how to make tinola. Properly.”

“Deal,” Stacey mumbled, already leaning back to lie down as sleep pulled her under once again, the medicine she took making her drowsy.

As Stacey dozed off, Gwen cleaned up quietly. She looked at the remnants of her tinola soup, curious if it was anything close to what Stacey gave it credit for. 

She takes a spoonful. 

And another one. 

Teka lang … Wala naman siyang sipon pero… bakit walang lasa?  

She smacks her lips once more in search of hints of any flavor. 

Wala talaga. 

Then it dawned on her.

Ay lintian, dae ko palan nalaganan ki asin. Patalon ang payo mo Gweneth!

She mentally slaps herself at the realization. She remembers trying to cook the dish once but it ended up being too salty that she immediately spat it out because it was inedible. Apparently, that was a traumatic event for her cause ever since, she had been careful around any form of seasoning— perhaps too careful, now that she forgot to touch it altogether this time. Guess you could commit the same blunder, doing the exact same opposite. 

Nagmukha tuloy na ginaslight niya si Stacey na wala siyang panlasa.  

Pasalamat ka Gweneth, may sipon si Stacey.

It had been a while since the two of them shared a meal. 

After Stacey felt better and returned to her usual cheerful self, Gwen was nowhere to be found. Apparently, she was caught up in an emergency at the architectural firm where she worked at. Long hours, deadlines, and even nights spent at the office had kept her away. 

Still, Stacey cooked, as she always did, though eating alone had never felt so starkly different. Before their little routine, she had always eaten alone so she doesn’t know why doing it now seemed any different. But it was. Without Gwen sitting across from her, eating with such gusto, it could make anyone smile, the food somehow tasted less vibrant.

So when Gwen finally returned to the apartment complex for good, Stacey wasted no time. She made sure she’d cook her one heck of a meal. 

The next day, Stacey stood outside Gwen’s door, a pink casserole in her hands, the aroma of spice and coconut wafting into the hallway. Her heart raced, though she told herself it was only because she wanted the dish to be perfect.

“Dinner?” Stacey said, flashing her brightest smile. Before Gwen could respond, Stacey stepped inside, making herself at home.

Stacey didn’t fail to notice the pizza boxes stacked on top of the microwave and the overflowing trash bag in the corner. Gwen fidgeted, scratching the back of her neck.

“S-Sorry kakabalik ko lang ‘di pa ulit ako nakakapaglinis.” Stacey’s inner neat freak twitched, but her excitement quickly overshadowed it. With a flourish, she removed the lid.

“Ta-da!,” she said, setting the casserole down on Gwen’s modest dining table. The vibrant reds of chili peppers peeked out from the rich, golden sauce, while chunks of pork belly glistened, soaking up the creamy, spicy goodness.

“I-is that?” Gwen asked, her eyes widening.

“Bicol Express delivery!” Stacey declared triumphantly, “for a hardworking Bicolana who deserves a reward for doing a great job!”.

Gwen didn’t know how to react at first, overwhelmed by emotions - surprise, gratitude, and longing she didn’t know how to properly express. Her face began to soften and before Stacey could react, Gwen pulled her into a warm embrace, the unexpected gesture sending electric shocks through her body. Stacey froze, still holding the casserole lid awkwardly mid-air, terrified of moving even a single finger and shattering the moment.

“Grabe naalala mo pa ‘yun?” Gwen murmured as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto Stacey’s.

Stacey swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of the closeness between them. “A-ano ka ba! Pambawi ko yan. You’ve been working really hard these days kahit anino mo di ko na nga nasisilayan” Stacey said quickly bringing her arm back down.

“You’ve always mentioned how much you miss food from home and complain na walang ka anghang anghang yung bicol express dito sa Maynila. It was nowhere close to the authentic version that your hometown offered. Ano nga naman talaga sense nun? Haha, might as well call it Manila Express at that rate!.” Stacey was rambling at this point. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. 

“It’s my first time cooking this but humingi ako ng tips sa tita kong nakapangasawa ng Bikolano. You nursed me back to health back then so I also wanted to return the favor. Consider it a cure for homesickness. Ewan ko na lang kung ‘di ka pagpawisan sa anghang niyan.”

Gwen smiled, her lips quirking into a teasing grin. “It’s perfect Staks. I’m sure masarap ‘yan. Lahat naman ng luto mo may kasamang puso. Thank you.” Stacey’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Gwen’s voice. She struggled to maintain eye contact, her fingers fumbling with the lid.

“Tara na! Mamaya ka na ulit mag thank you! Let’s dig in before it gets cold” she said, quickly changing the subject.

The scent hit her full force—spicy, creamy, and deeply savory. The coconut milk carried a sweetness that balanced the heat of the chilies, while the pork belly added a smoky, indulgent richness. Tiny flecks of shrimp paste lent an umami punch that tied everything together.

Gwen spooned some Bicol Express onto her plate, the steam carrying the sharp, inviting aroma of chili and coconut milk. As the first bite touched her lips, distant memories flooded her senses— she could almost hear the distant crowing rooster from her childhood room in the breaking dawn; her mother’s voice - loud yet gentle, calling out to her to go to the breakfast table, washing away any remnants of sleep in her system. It tasted like home.

“Kumusta?” Stacey asked, her voice soft. There was a quiet fondness in her gaze as she watched Gwen eat. 

“Parang sinusubuan ako ni Satanas. Pero kaya naman. Oragon na bicolana yata ‘to.” Gwen joked in an attempt to hide the overwhelming emotions she’s feeling at this moment.

“Yung lasa?”

“Lasang…,” a mischievious glint in her eyes,“.... pwede nang mag-asawa.”

“Sira.”

There must be something in the Bicol Express that made Gwen say that. However, she immediately noticed how Stacey’s smile faltered, her expression shifting ever so slightly.

“Did I say something wrong?” Gwen asked, concern creeping into her voice.

“No, it’s not that.”, Stacey’s gaze turns to somewhere distant. 

“I know you meant it as a compliment, it’s just that people say that so much about my cooking - especially my male colleagues,” Stacey paused as Gwen waited for her to continue.

“Di ko naman ginagawa ‘to para maging mabuting ina o asawa in the future. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the thought. Pero… I’m doing it out of passion. I cook because it makes me happy, not for some approval through a standard that society imposed on women.” 

Gwen nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. I’m sorry if it came off that way”. Her eyes darted to Stacey’s face, searching for any sign that she had overstepped.

Stacey blinked rapidly and shook her head, her cheeks faintly pink. “N-no! I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Stacey reassured her quickly.

Gwen hesitated for a moment, then leaned back in her chair. 

“Well…” Gwen said with a small smile, “...if it’s any merit, even if you weren’t such a good cook, I still think you’d make a great wife.”

Stacey froze, her mouth opening slightly in surprise.

“Pfft - pano mo naman nasabi ‘yan!” she asked, her voice pitched higher than usual, trying hard to hide the fact she was completely flustered at what she had just heard. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out more as a nervous chuckle.

“Have you seen yourself, Staks?”

Stacey’s face flushed, heat creeping up at the back of her neck and her lips pressed tightly together. She stared at Gwen, trying to gauge whether she was joking or not, but Gwen’s grin only grew wider. The room suddenly felt smaller as if she was running out of air. 

“Staks, okay ka lang?”

“H-huh? Oo okay lang naman”

“Ba’t parang ang pula mo? May sakit ka ba ulit?”

Stacey’s bright skin, one she considers as an asset, was betraying her. Before Stacey could come up with an excuse, Gwen’s hand darted, her palm pressed against Stacey’s forehead, as it trailed down to gently cup her cheeks in search of any warmth, and ending with the back of the former’s hand on Stacey’s neck. Stacey immediately grabbed Gwen’s wrist, her hands lingering just slightly longer than necessary, and gently removed it away.

“O-okay lang ako! Mainit kasi sa labas!” Stacey said hoping the tall girl would believe her lame excuse.

“Ah okay. I was worried for a moment there.” Gwen responded with a timid smile.

They ate in near silence, the occasional clink of spoon against bowl the only sound. Gwen wanted to say something about how much she’d missed this—missed Stacey—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she glanced at Stacey, noticing how she kept fidgeting, her eyes darting everywhere except at Gwen.

“Alam mo,” Gwen suddenly blurted out, a teasing edge to her voice, her grin morphing into a playful smirk. “Bagay pala tayo.”

Stacey swallowed hard.

Gwen leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Mahilig ka magluto, mahilig ako kumain.” she said with a cheeky grin, her tone light but her gaze steady.

Stacey rolled her eyes, and she exhaled sharply, shaking her head with a soft laugh, trying to ignore how her heart just skipped a beat. “If this is your way of getting me to cook adobo for you, it’s working.” 

“I’m being honest!” Gwen added, shrugging, “But I wouldn’t pass on adobo,” followed by a laugh, the tension breaking slightly but leaving a tender undercurrent. Her melodious voice echoed in Stacey’s ears.

Gwen wasn’t sure where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being surprised by her favorite dish from childhood. Maybe it was the intimacy of sharing a home-cooked meal with Stacey after days of eating lackluster takeout. Or the lack of sleep she has yet to recover from. Or maybe it was the way the warm kitchen lights bathed Stacey’s face in a golden glow. One thing was certain: Gwen meant every word she said.

The tension in the room was subtle but palpable—awkward glances, half-smiles, the kind of energy that spoke louder than words.

Stacey peeked at the now-empty casserole dish, her lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. The fact that Gwen had scraped it clean filled her with a quiet pride. She set the lid down and leaned back in her chair, a soft sigh escaped her lips.

“I missed this,” she said quietly. 

“What?” Gwen asked, tilting her head.

Stacey’s eyes widened, and a flush crept up her neck as she bit her lip. She didn’t realize she had voiced out her supposedly internal thoughts out loud. 

Maybe it was Gwen’s infectious confidence, or maybe it was a haze from the chili in the air, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. She glanced at Gwen, her mind racing, but the warmth of Gwen’s gaze made her feel braver than usual.

“I said I missed eating with you. And—” Stacey’s voice wavered as she finally let the words slip out, her courage teetering on the edge of a fragile line. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her seat, a storm brewing inside her chest, but she held Gwen’s gaze, her eyes wide with unspoken emotion. “I missed you.” 

“I wanna share more meals with you.” Stacey said softly, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass, the motion betraying the nervous energy coursing through her. “I think I kinda like you”, her voice trembling as she was in the middle of half-laughing and half-panicking.

Gwen’s eyebrows shot up, and Stacey immediately panicked. “No. Scratch that. AaAah!” she exclaimed in an exasperated sigh out of frustration (in true Stacey fashion), which surprised Gwen. The latter immediately waved her hands and covered her face with it for a moment before pulling them away, her cheeks a fiery red. Gwen’s lips parted in surprise, but Stacey wasn’t done. 

“I really, no— truly , like you, Gwen.” the words tumbling out before fear could swallow her whole, her face red as a tomato now hiding behind her hands. 

The rush of adrenaline and embarrassment coursing through her was dizzying. Peeking out from behind her fingers, she saw Gwen watching her, her expression unreadable.

Stacey’s chest tightened, her next words fumbling out in a frantic rush. “I’m sorry I’m rambling again, I—”

“I like you too, Stacey” Gwen interrupted, her voice steady but gentle, a warmth in her tone that cut through Stacey’s panic. “I’d love to share more meals with you”

Stacey froze, her eyes widening as her mouth fell open. “Wait. I’m sorry—I can’t keep up with what’s happening right now.” she stammered, her disbelief evident in the way her voice softened, her tone almost shy.

Gwen let out a nervous laugh, her own composure unraveling just slightly.

“I am surprised myself too,” her words were spoken with an honesty that made the moment feel grounded, even amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

“Talaga ba?” Stacey asked, her voice quiet, almost reverent, her eyes searching Gwen’s face as if for proof. 

“Eh ang kalmado mo ngang tingnan diyan.” she added, her lips curling into a tentative smile, though doubt lingered at the edges.

“I am not,” Gwen replied quickly, her voice cracking with sincerity as a sheepish grin spread across her face as she looked directly at Stacey’s brown orbs. Her ears turned a deep crimson, a detail Stacey couldn’t help but notice, and it made her heart flutter.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the confession hung between them, tender and new. They stared at each other for quite a while before bursting into laughter. The tension in the air shifted, no longer awkward but dissolved into something warmer, softer . 

Gwen’s lips curved into a smile that reached her eyes, and Stacey felt her own smile blooming in response, unbidden and unrestrained. The undeniable fluttering in her chest only seemed to grow with every glance, every word, every second spent with Gwen. She wanted to savor this moment for as long as she could. Stacey’s tummy felt full - whether that was because of the food or the butterflies in her stomach she was not exactly sure.

The day after that eventful evening, Stacey finds a smiling Gwen outside her door, looking stunning while dressed in black jogger pants and an oversized black hoodie.

“Grocery shopping?” Gwen asked, her smile radiant.

From that moment on, Stacey knew— Gwen wasn’t simply just a guest at her table anymore; before, during, and after every meal, she would be there every step of the way, making life richer with every flavor they discover and every bite they share.