You had been dating Emily Fields for a few months now, and you loved her—her kindness, her determination, her sense of humor… and, apparently, her lack of cooking skills.

“Surprise dinner tonight!” Emily announced as you walked into her apartment after school, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail and an apron on, slightly too big for her frame.

You smiled, excited. “Really? You cooked?”

Emily beamed. “Yep! I’ve been practicing… well, kinda. I followed a recipe online. How hard can it be?”

At first, things seemed fine. She chopped vegetables with surprising precision, hummed a little tune, and stirred pots like she knew exactly what she was doing. You leaned against the counter, enjoying the sight of her concentrated face.

“Smells… interesting,” you said cautiously as a strange, slightly smoky aroma drifted from the stove.

Emily waved you off. “It’s fine! Totally fine. Just a little… extra flavor. You’ll love it.”

Five minutes later, the disaster started.

The pasta pot boiled over, sending a small waterfall of noodles across the stove. Emily yelped, hopping back and accidentally flinging a spoon across the kitchen, which narrowly missed your head.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she cried, frantically trying to scoop noodles back into the pot.

You couldn’t help but laugh, doubling over as you grabbed a towel. “Em! It’s okay! We can fix this!”

Instead of panicking, Emily started laughing too, her cheeks red from embarrassment and adrenaline. “Okay… maybe I need a little help.”

Together, you rescued the noodles, salvaged the sauce, and wiped up the mess. Somehow, even amidst the chaos, it felt perfect—just you and Emily, laughing, teasing, and working as a team.

Finally, you both sat down at the tiny kitchen table, plates piled with slightly charred but edible food. Emily looked at you nervously.

“You still… want to eat it?” she asked.