“Good?” I ask, suspicious.
He nods, mouth full. “Mm-hmm. Great. Excellent. Fiery.”
“Fiery?”
“Just—mmph—spicy.”
“You’re sweating.”
“That’s love.”
I narrow my eyes, take my own bite, and immediately regret everything I’ve ever done in my life.
The heat hits like a slap. My mouth burns. My eyes water. It’s not just spicy—it’s apocalyptic. I drop the spoon and reach for water, gulping it like oxygen. Roja’s watching me with wide eyes now, halfway between concern and stifled laughter.
“Oh no,” I wheeze. “Oh no no no no?—”
“You okay?”
“My tongue is dying.”
He slides his chair around the table and pulls me gently against him, trying not to laugh. “Okay, alright, breathe, babe. Breathe.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s kinda funny.”
I swat at him but end up clutching his shirt because now the burn has triggered something deeper. Not just heat. Not just spice. It’s stupid, ridiculous—but I start crying.
Real tears. Ugly ones.
Roja panics. “Oh hell, no, baby, don’t cry—please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it, it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten?—”
He grabs the pot and starts eating straight from it, like a lunatic.
“Mmm!” he moans loudly. “Delicious! Best stew in the quadrant!”
I choke out a laugh through the tears. “You’re insane.”
“Completely. For you.” He wipes at my cheek. “See? Still alive. Still have taste buds.”
“You liar.”
He grins. “Lying’s a love language now.”
I laugh harder, the heat still clawing at my throat but now it’s mixed with joy and something deeper, something soft and steady. He sets the pot down, pulls me in, arms wrapping around me like I’m something worth holding.
We stand there, wrapped up, the kitchen spinning with the scent of too much cumin and not enough restraint. And I say it. Quiet, against his chest.
“I love you.”
His hand stills on my back. Then he tilts my face up, kisses the corner of my wet eye, and says, “I’ve been waiting to hear that since the first time you pointed a gun at me.”
I laugh again, and this time the tears are welcome.
“Love you too,” he adds. “Even if you try to kill me with spice.”
We stand there, laughing and kissing, wrapped in steam and chaos and something that might actually be peace.
