Sevika was obsessed with you. Rightfully so, I mean you were everything she’d ever wished for. From how your hips swayed when you walked to the way your voice got higher when you got upset. She knew every little bit of you, and she loved it just the same.

But one thing she loved the most…was your cooking.

Sevika loved to eat. Of course. She had to get her muscles somehow, right? And your food seemed to do the trick.

Flavors she’d never tasted before, foods she’d never seen before—you’d make her anything. A lot of the food, she had never even heard of. Growing up in Zaun where poverty striked literally anyone in its sight…you kinda get used to random pop-up shop food and scraps.

But you and your stolen Piltie cookbook got her out of that slump.

It was a late night, and some Indian food was on the table. Sevika, being Indian, was the biggest judge on how Indian food usually tastes. But you’re was better than her moms—her MOMS.

She stretched back in her chair, full as she stretched out an arm and placed her hand over her belly. Sevika groaned softly. She’d never tasted anything better in her entire damn life—and it made her want to kiss you silly.