The sun pounded down in the village, relentless and unrelenting. Olivia wiped her forehead as she gazed upon the small clay stove in her hut. "It can be done," she grunted, to herself in actuality. "Not that hard to cook, how hard can it be?"
Ingredients set out in front of her: yam, vegetables, and a few pieces of freshly caught fish the villagers had brought. She looked at the little pile of charcoal. Easy enough, she decided.
Minutes later, smoke was already curling into her eyes, and the fire sputtered stubbornly. Olivia waved at it with a flat pan, coughing and squinting.
"Uh-huh. not as simple as I imagined," she admitted, hurt pride.
Chidera leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, slumping against the door-frame. "How's it going?" he mumbled, his lips twisted in a mocking smile. Olivia spun around, a little ashamed. "I… I think the fire has a mind of its own."
He entered uninvited, dropping to his knees next to the stove. "You're doing it wrong I won't lie ahhan…," he said gently but with a bit of authority correcting her hand as she tried to stir the yam. "You grip it like that, you stir slow, and you keep the heat."
Olivia blushed. "I can do it! I just… need… practice!"
Chidera smiled. "Practice is a good thing. Let's just not burn the hut down first."
The art of cooking was rapidly becoming a comedic epic of errors. The yam had become stuck to the pan, the fish had caught fire, and Olivia was angry as each minute catastrophe unfolded. "Lagos life never taught me that," she said, brandishing a burnt yam. It was a smoke-filled little hut and she coughed.
Chidera smirked, waving the smoke clear. "You're dramatic," he replied. "That's not rocket science, that's cooking."
Olivia scowled, but a smile pulled on her mouth against her will. "I'm not dramatic! I just … I want it to be perfect!"
"Perfection is overrated," answered Chidera, assuming control of the fire. Gently, he fussed over the yam, flipped the fish, and sprinkled a pinch of seasoning. It sounded much better right away.
Olivia stood against the wall, observing him, half irritated, half impressed. "Effortless" she grumbled. "You make it sound effortless.". "Experience," he said flatly. "And patience. Something you're learning gradually."
She gave him a hostile glance, but her cheeks blazed. Despite that she had failed, she discovered a strange reassurance in his calm, professional manner.
By late afternoon, finally, the food became palatable. Olivia sat next to Chidera, tentatively savoring a morsel of yam which he had successfully salvaged from possible destruction.
It's. good, too," she allowed, a small smile edging its way in.
Chidera arched an eyebrow. "Just because I did rescue it."
"You deserve credit," she said, chuckling. "I worked practically day and night." He shrugged, a little smile. "Effort matters, Olivia. You tried. And that matters."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the soft warmth of the evening sun pouring into the hut. Olivia had a tiny shiver of delight at the silent intimacy, the shared mirth, and teasing that was edging towards being too personal to be just teasing.
You know," she said after a moment, "I'm coming to like village life. much more so since you make it seem possible to cope. He looked her in the eyes, amusement and warmth lacing his eyes. "Happy to hear that. Don't worry, Lagos girl. You are slowly but surely picking it up." Olivia smiled softly, sitting back against the wall. Underneath the mess, the smoke, and the daily little disasters, she was discovering something more than how to cook. She was discovering patience, humility, and worth in a person standing there silently and encouraging you. And Chidera. he wasn't just a caretaker. He was turning out to be a regular, consistent figure she couldn't help but see. For the first time, Olivia asked herself, maybe I could withstand whatever lies ahead of me here… if he's there.