2 | Husband

Chapter 2: Husband

Eliana Maxine

By the time we finished, the kitchen smelled like heaven. Crispy golden lumpia stacked neatly on a tray and a big dish of steaming palabok resting on the counter, still letting off curls of delicious-smelling steam.

Aunt George wiped her hands on a towel, nodding with satisfaction like she’d just won MasterChef.

“Good work, chef,” she said, flashing me a thumbs-up.

I chuckled and washed my hands. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d still be in bed right now.” I teasingly flicked a few drops of water at her.

She gasped like I’d thrown acid instead. “Susmaryosep! You did not just attack me in my own kitchen!” She clutched her chest dramatically. “After all the years I spent raising you, feeding you, loving you, and this is how you repay me?”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the towel to dry my hands. “Please. You act like you slaved away raising me when I’ve been helping in this kitchen since I could hold a spoon. If anything, I should be the one getting all the credit.”

I crossed my arms with a smug smile. “Let’s be real. Who’s been doing most of the heavy lifting in this kitchen the last few years?”

Aunt George huffed and waved a finger at me. “Well, how else are you going to find a husband if you don’t know how to cook?”

I groaned, throwing my head back. “Here we go again.”

“I’m just saying!” she insisted, hands on her hips like a telenovela mom. “Back in my day, we were taught to cook by the time we were ten. And now, look at me—I make the best lumpia and palabok in this entire neighborhood.”

I nodded. “That’s true. But you forgot one important thing, Aunt.”

She tilted her head. “What’s that?”

I grinned. “I’m not looking for a husband.”

She clicked her tongue and shook her head like I’d said something blasphemous. “Goodness, this child.”

“Oh, come on, Aunt. I don’t even have a boyfriend, and you’re already talking about marriage?”

“Well, maybe if you actually stepped out of your room instead of spending all your time watching K-dramas and reading novels, you would’ve had one by now.”

I scoffed. “Wow! That’s rich coming from you.” I gave her a pointed look. “Remember when I invited Psalm over for our senior high group project? You judged him like you were on some reality show panel. He wasn’t even my boyfriend, and you already started spiraling about how dating would ruin my life and I’d never reach my dreams. You were so dramatic!”

She waved her hand like it was ancient history. “That was different! You were still too young back then.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And I’m still young now,” I pointed out. “I’m barely twenty!”

“Well, your mother was nineteen when she had you.” She made the sign of the cross. “Bless her soul.”

I gasped in mock offense. “Then why don’t you get married instead? You’re almost forty and still single.” I smirked, giving her a pointed look. “You should be the one settling down, not me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, so now you’re turning this on me?”

I shrugged. “I mean, it’s true. You’re not getting any younger. What, do you think you’re Song Hye-kyo or something? Aging like fine wine? Maybe you should get married so I’m not the only one you’re fussing about.”

She scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. “Excuse me? Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I’m desperate. I happen to enjoy my freedom, thank you very much.”

I smirked. “See? That’s exactly my point! If you can enjoy your life without a husband, then so can I.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again, realizing she’d just walked into her own trap. Her glare narrowed into slits.

“You little—”

I squealed and dodged the playful swat she aimed at me. “Too slow, old lady!”

“Brat,” she huffed, shaking her head.

I stuck my tongue out, earning another glare that was more fond than fierce.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” I said, stretching my arms over my head, “I’m going back to my actual summer plans: doing absolutely nothing.”

“You lazy child,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Alright, fine. Go back to your book, nerd. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I practically skipped out of the kitchen, climbed onto my bed, and sank into my blanket cocoon with a satisfied sigh. My iPad was right where I left it, and I grabbed it with giddy anticipation.

With a quick swipe, I unlocked the screen and pulled up the novel I’d been reading earlier.

“Now, where were we?” I murmured to myself.

My eyes scanned the screen, picking up right where I left off—the regressor protagonist still locked in battle, monsters snarling at his heels. I was instantly pulled back into the chaos, the story gripping me by the collar.

I had no idea how much time had passed until another knock pulled me out of my fantasy world.

I groaned, glancing up just as Aunt George peeked her head in. She’d changed into jeans and a simple white v-neck shirt, her hair pulled back neatly, and her trusty tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“I’m heading to work now,” she said.

“You need help carrying the food?” I offered half-heartedly.

“Nah. I can manage.”

“Good,” I muttered, flopping back into my pillows. “Because I can’t handle any more interruptions today.”

She rolled her eyes, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “On second thought—”

“Aunt!” I shot upright, giving her an exasperated look.

She chuckled. “You lazybones. Alright, alright, I’m really leaving now.” She softened slightly. “Keep the doors locked, okay? And if anything happens, or if you need something, just text me.”

I sighed dramatically. “Yes, Mom.”

“Damn right,” she said with a wink.

I huffed, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Take care.”

“Always am.”

She stepped out, and a few seconds later, I heard the front door clicked shut.

I waited, just in case she came back with another request, but the apartment stayed blissfully quiet.

I sighed in relief.

Finally. Peace.

I sank deeper under the covers, pulled my blanket up to my chin, and smiled.

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