But I am not fond of cooking. I eat whatever I cook.
Francisco, still focused on the culinary task at hand, asked,
Francisco
Then why don’t you take your parents here?
Hazel sighed, her expression carrying a hint of melancholy.
Hazel
My papa has his job, so it would be difficult for him. I thought I would stay here alone.
With a curious arch of his eyebrow, Francisco asked,
Francisco
You said you shared your apartment with friends. Where are they?
As Francisco deftly flipped a pancake in the pan, Hazel hesitated for a moment before responding,
Hazel
They went to their city. So I have been living alone for some days.
Francisco turned off the stove, signaling the completion of their cooking venture. He observed Hazel, who was engrossed in checking the taste of her curry. As she was about to taste the gravy, Francisco, in a surprising move, held her hand, interrupting her action.
Hazel looked at him, eyes widening in astonishment, as Francisco locked his gaze onto hers. Without a word, he took her index finger, coated with the curry, into his mouth.
The unexpected gesture sent a wave of sensations through Hazel — her heart racing, a cold shiver down her spine. She attempted to pull her hand away, but Francisco continued to suck on her finger, his gaze unwavering.
Hazel
Mr. Francisco… I
Hazel stammered, her voice barely audible over the unexpected intimacy.
Finally releasing her finger, Francisco calmly remarked,
Francisco
It tastes good.
Flustered, Hazel managed a hesitation,
Hazel
Ah… thanks. Let’s start eating.
Not dwelling on the moment, Hazel swiftly took the tray, and Francisco, with a mysterious smile, followed her from behind as they headed to the dining area.
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