Chapter 239 - 240: You talk about food like it’s magic
"We have rice, beans..." Isabella said slowly, the words rolling off her tongue like a melody, her eyes glossing over with the kind of nostalgia that painted her cheeks in a soft pink hue.
Cyrus blinked. "Rice?" he echoed, gently, as if tasting the word.
"Mmhmm," she hummed, scooping another spoonful of soup. "Tiny white grains. Fluffy when steamed. They soak up sauces like a dream. You can pair them with anything—vegetables, stews, even beans."
Cyrus tilted his head, visibly trying to imagine it. "So... it’s like the grain here? That dry one?"
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "No, not that nonsense you people call food. Real rice is tender, warm, comforting. It smells like home. Especially when it’s cooked in coconut milk with just a hint of garlic. You’d cry if you tasted it."
"Cry?" Cyrus chuckled softly, utterly enchanted. "Over food?"
"Absolutely." She nodded seriously, but the playful sparkle in her eyes betrayed her. "There’s a kind of rice we fry too—add oil, chopped onions, carrots, peas. The scent alone? It fills the entire house. You’d swear a festival was coming."
A tiny noise interrupted her—a curious squeaky growl. Isabella looked down.
Glimora was frozen mid-chew, her meat abandoned on the floor as she stared up at Isabella, wide-eyed and suspiciously alert.
Isabella blinked. "Oh? Don’t tell me someone’s interested in the rice now?"
Glimora’s ears twitched. Then, as if it would make her point clearer, she padded closer, pressed her chin against Isabella’s ankle, and gave the most hopeful little whine.