The soft glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the cozy space as Natasha moved around, her demeanor calm and focused. You were nestled under a pile of blankets on the couch, feeling miserable as the cold crept through your body. Your head throbbed, and every muscle ached, but the presence of Natasha in your home brought you a sense of comfort that eased your discomfort, even if just a little.

“Alright, I think the soup is just about ready,” Natasha called over her shoulder, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. You could hear the gentle simmering of the broth, and the familiar, savory aroma wafted through the air, making your stomach grumble slightly despite your lack of appetite.

“Is it the way I like it?” you asked weakly, trying to sound more enthusiastic than you felt.

“Just the way you like it—salty but not too salty. I wouldn’t dream of messing that up,” she teased, turning to give you a reassuring wink.

You smiled faintly, grateful for her effort to keep your spirits up. Natasha was always the one to take charge, and in moments like these, her nurturing side shone brightly. She moved effortlessly around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and ladling the warm soup into it.

“Just a minute! I’ll bring it to you,” she called as she added a sprinkle of fresh herbs on top.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, settling deeper into the couch. The warmth radiating from the kitchen felt inviting, but you didn’t want to move. You watched as Natasha brought the bowl over, steam rising from it like a comforting embrace.

“Here you go,” she said, carefully setting the bowl on the coffee table in front of you. “I made your favorite mac and cheese too. Just finished the onion sauce.”