Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait? You got me something, like a gift?”
The smile that spread across her face was so bright it made me happy. Before I could even respond, she was already halfway down the hall.
“Wait, don’t you want to know what it is first?” I called after her, laughing at her enthusiasm.
“Surprise me!” came her voice from the other room.
I turned back to my onions, silently hoping she would like what I’d chosen. It had taken me three different stores to find something that felt right, something that showed I’d been paying attention to who she really was beneath all her confident swagger.
From the bedroom, I heard something that sounded like a faint “Oh my God,” then silence. My heart started racing.
Had I gotten it wrong? Was it too much? Not enough?
“Princess...” she called.
I wiped my hands on the dish towel and walked toward the bedroom, suddenly nervous about her reaction.
I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the small, wrapped box in her hands. She’d already opened it, and the delicate silver bracelet with a tiny compass charm lay nestled in the tissue paper.
“You got me a bracelet,” she said, her voice soft with surprise.
“I noticed you’re always checking directions on your phone,” I said, moving to sit beside her. “Even when we’re walking around campus, so I thought you might like having a compass with you.”
She picked up the bracelet, examining the small silver compass that dangled from the chain.
“This is… ridiculously thoughtful,” she murmured. “Wow, I love it.”
“You don’t have to wear it if it’s not your style,” I started, but she was already fastening it around her wrist.
“Are you kidding? It’s perfect.” She held up her arm, admiring how it looked. “Thank you. Really, no one’s gotten me jewellery before.” She leaned over and kissed me softly. “I love it.”
“I’m glad you do,” I said, pulling her up from the bed. “Now come on, dinner isn’t going to finish cooking itself.”
We headed back to the kitchen together, her new bracelet catching the light as she moved. I added the rice to the pot with the tomato base, stirring everything together while she watched from her perch on the counter.
“So how spicy are we talking here?” she asked as I covered the pot.
“Medium,” I said innocently. “Nothing you can’t possibly handle.”
An hour later, we were sitting at her small dining table with steaming plates of jollof rice and fried turkey wings in front of us. I took my first bite, savouring the familiar blend of spices and the perfectly cooked rice.
Marley took a generous forkful and chewed thoughtfully. For a moment, her face remained neutral. Then her eyes widened.
“Oh,” she said, still chewing. “Oh wow. That’s...” She reached for her water glass and drained half of it in one go.
“Spicy?” I asked, trying not to smile.
“This is medium?” she gasped, fanning her mouth with her hand. Small beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. “What’s your version of hot? Actual lava?”
I couldn’t help it, I burst into laughter. “You should see your face right now.”
“I can’t feel my tongue. Oh meine Güte, meine Zunge brennt,” she said, reaching for more water. The tip of her nose had turned pink, and she was breathing through her mouth like she’d just run a marathon.
“Hold on.” I got up and went to the fridge, returning with a glass of cold milk. “Here, this will help more than water.”
She snatched the milk and took several large gulps. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I did! I said medium.”
