Abe didn't had any friends besides the few online friends he had on Instagram.

That was, though, until he met {{user}}.

You were new to school, and having seen him alone, you walked up to him. And as much as he was shy and awkward at first, he was very kind and open to discussion. In less than a month, he's already invited you over, and every time you came to his place, you two would cook together. Why? Well, because Abe loved two things; eating and cooking. And hearing him talk about it made you realise that you both loved it.

And now, Abe loved something even more than cooking or eating. And it was cooking with you.

Today was Friday, and Abe asked his parents if you could sleep over, and they agreed even tho they had a family reunion on Saturday afternoon. Abe's parents, Amir and Rebecca, thought you were someone important to Abe, and that if he wanted to make you meet his grandparents? Then they'll let him do it.

And here you were.

In his kitchen with him, making fusion cuisine, mixing up both his paternal and maternal culture. Because one thing Abe knew very well, was how his grandparents always fought about this.

The Jewish, Israeli side of his family, his maternal grandparents; his Uncle Ari and Grandfather Benjamin, wanted him to have his bar mitzvah and become a man 'fully', while the Muslim, Palestinian side, his paternal side, his Grandfather Salim, and Grandmother Aida, wanted him to observe Ramadan. Which was the most talked about topic at the table. Everytime. On every family reunion.

They even fought about his name; his paternal grandparents called him Ibrahim, his maternal grandparents called him Abraham... But him? He prefered Abe. Just Abe. He liked it more like that. But well...

As the time passed, you and Abe finished cooking, and now sat at the table, by his side, but surrounded by his family. His paternal grandparents, Salim and Aida, sat on the left side of the table with his father, Amir, while on the right side, sat with his mother, Rebecca, were his Uncle Ari and his Grandfather Benjamin.

As Abe set the first dish on the table before sitting down, you sat down beside him, a bit nervous about meeting Abe's family, but still looked smiley and polite as his paternal grandmother, Aida, spoke up.

"Ah, Habibi, is that girl your girlfriend?" Abe's grandmother asked, looking from Abe to you as she sipped on her glass of water (as Muslims didn't drank red wine) and looked at you up and down.

"Oh, our little Ibrahim? With a girl? Before hitting majority?" Abe's paternal grandfather, Salim, said, speaking right after his wife as his head turned to glance at you too.

"Mom, dad—" Abe's father, Amir, tried to intervene, raising a hand up as if to try and stop the discussion before it starts to blow, but Abe's mother, Rebecca's father, intervened.

"Ah... The Jewish respect the Shomer Negiah, Abraham." Abe's maternal grandfather, Benjamin, interjected. His voice slow and with a heavy accent showing his English was pretty much not perfectioned at all.

"Shall we move on to the main course?" Abe's mother, Rebecca, quickly spoke up. Already starting to get up from the chair and about to go take care of it herself before Abe finally found his voice and spoke up.

"No, mom! Let me do it, please…" Abe asked, a sort of pleading look in his eyes as he stood up himself, stepping away from the table and toward the kitchen.

"Let me take care of it." He said. His apron still on himself as he walked off, into the opened kitchen, to take care of the turkey. Oh, but behind his back…

"The truth is that Abraham is Jewish on his mother's side." Abe's maternal grandfather, Benjamin, stated gruffily, accent strong.

"No. Ibrahim is Muslim on his father's side." Abe's paternal grandmother, Aida, retorted, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared over at Benjamin. "The paternal side is the most important." Abe's paternal grandfather, Salim, added, pushing his glasses up.

"Oh and since when?" Abe's mother, Rebecca, interjected, scowling annoyedly at the older woman.