The table was set simply—two plates, a pitcher of water, and the soft glow of kitchen lights brushing their edges with gold.
Lily had just hung up the phone.
"She's not coming," she said, slipping into her chair with a half-smile. "Mom's got an overnight case. Told me to eat whatever's in the fridge. Guess she didn't expect you."
Kemet chuckled softly, then slid the steaming plate of Jollof rice and grilled chicken in front of her.
She took the first bite.
And then—paused.
Her forest green eyes fluttered closed, and a slow breath escaped her lips, like a melody whispered under moonlight.
"This…" she said, leaning back, eyes wide with wonder. "This tastes like… if a summer sunset had a heartbeat. If warmth had a flavor."
Kemet blinked, surprised. "That's… good?"
Lily laughed, picking up another forkful. "It's amazing, Kemet. You've never made this before?"
He shook his head. "No. Only saw it today. Just followed what I remembered."
She looked at him like he'd pulled magic from the air. "That's insane. You cook like a memory that doesn't belong to this time."
He smiled faintly, unsure what to say.
A gentle quiet fell between them as they ate. The kind of silence that doesn't need to be filled—just shared.
After a few moments, Kemet spoke, his voice soft. "What about you, Lily? What's your story?"
She set her fork down and leaned back in her chair, the light casting a soft halo around her hair.
"I grew up here. Same house. Same street. Mom works a lot—she's always been strong, like a lighthouse in a storm."
She hesitated.
"My dad… he left when I was ten. Said he was going on a work trip, but he never came back. No calls. No letters. Nothing." Her voice faltered. "For a long time, I thought maybe I wasn't good enough to be loved."
Kemet looked at her, something tightening in his chest. "I'm sorry."
She shrugged, eyes distant. "I got through it. Emma, Ji Ah , Taylor and Noah, they kind of became my anchors. We've been close ever since. And now… Maya and Riley joined the group."
She smiled, a little wistfully. "I want to travel. Go to places I've only read about. Become a photojournalist—capture stories, moments, people. And maybe—just maybe—find my one and only. Someone who feels like home no matter where I am."
Kemet tilted his head. "Your one and only?"
Lily looked at him, amused. "You know—your person. The one you love so much, you don't need to search anymore. It's like… finding a song you didn't know you were humming your whole life."
Kemet considered this. "That sounds… beautiful."
"It is," she said, finishing the last bite of her meal. "Or at least, I hope it is."
When they were done, Kemet instinctively rose and began clearing the dishes. Lily followed him into the kitchen.
"I'll help," she offered. "Used to do this with my dad, actually."
She handed him a plate, then stopped. Her fingers hovered over the sponge. "He used to sing while we washed. 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough.' It made the chores feel like something sacred."
Her voice cracked just slightly.
Kemet looked at her, then reached out and gently held her hand. His fingers were warm and careful—more comfort than question.
She looked up at him, her forest green eyes glassy with memory. The touch lingered.
But then something shifted in the air—too tender, too soon. Kemet's face tensed slightly, and he drew his hand back quickly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"It's okay," Lily said gently. "You didn't do anything wrong."
They both looked down at the sink, the dishes forgotten for a beat.
Eventually, they packed the leftovers and slid the containers into the fridge. The hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet like a sigh.
Later, they settled on the couch, a soft throw blanket tossed between them. The movie was The Notebook, already playing.
Rain fell on the screen, lovers kissed beneath lamplight. Lily curled slightly, legs tucked beneath her, her head resting gently on her hand.
Kemet sat beside her, watching not just the movie—but her. The way her eyes softened at certain scenes, the way her breath caught when the characters embraced.
He didn't fully understand the plot. But he understood feelings—the way two people could sit quietly and feel the gravity of closeness without touching.
Little did they know, in that quiet living room, with the flicker of the screen painting light across their faces, that they were writing their own kind of story—one slow glance at a time.
The kind of bond that grows not in grand declarations, but in small, unspoken truths.
And maybe, just maybe, in the space between a dish shared and a movie watched, something had already begun.
Something like home.
Soft light spilled through the sheer curtains as morning tiptoed into the living room. The TV had long since gone quiet, the credits from The Notebook now just a silent memory. On the couch, tangled in the comfort of slumber, Lily lay curled up on one side, her head resting lightly on Kemet's shoulder. His head had tilted toward hers in the night, like two branches finding each other in a breeze.
Neither stirred when the front door opened.
Ji Ah stepped inside first, followed by Maya and Taylor, chatting lightly—until they saw the scene in the living room.
"Oh… my… God," Ji Ah whispered, halting so abruptly Maya bumped into her.
"What?" Maya asked.
Ji Ah pointed.
There they were: Lily and Kemet, still asleep, looking far too peaceful to be just friends.
Maya grinned. "Aww, they're cute."
Taylor raised a brow. "Are sure they are related in some how?"
Ji Ah folded her arms. "kinda of ."
The sound of Maya stifling a giggle stirred Lily. She blinked, her eyes heavy, then sat up slowly—realizing where she was and who was beside her. "Oh—uh…"
Kemet stirred too, rubbing his eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"
"You both did," Ji Ah said, stepping closer. "And it looked very cozy."
Lily flushed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Nothing happened. We were just watching a movie."
"Uh-huh," Ji Ah said, clearly not convinced.
Lily stretched and yawned. "Anyway—anyone hungry?"
"Always," said Taylor.
Lily padded to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Well, we've got leftovers. Kemet made Jollof rice and grilled chicken last night."
"You cooked?" Ji Ah's eyes widened, clearly surprised.
Kemet nodded. "I… tried. I saw it on TV."
"Wait," Maya said, crossing her arms. "You mean you saw it once,and made it?"
Kemet gave a small, humble shrug.
"I need to try this," Taylor said, grabbing plates.
Soon, the table was filled with warm aromas again. The girls took their first bites—and the room went quiet.
Ji Ah's eyes went wide. "Okay… what kind of sorcery is this?"
Maya grinned. "This is so good. Kemet, are you like… a secret chef from another dimension or something?"
Lily laughed, relieved to shift the attention. "Told you he's good."
They all ate heartily, complimenting Kemet so much he couldn't help but blush.
But Ji Ah kept stealing glances at Lily—watching the way she looked at Kemet when she thought no one was paying attention. The soft smiles. The ease.
Later, as the girls helped clean up, Ji Ah leaned closer to Lily and whispered, "You sure there's nothing going on between you two?"
Lily hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Honestly? nothing. "
Ji Ah raised an eyebrow but didn't press. Not yet.
As laughter floated from the kitchen and the warm smell of spices still lingered in the air, none of them could deny it—
Something was definitely cooking.
And it wasn't just the food.