Chapter 7 Seven

THEY ARRIVED at Rayyan's parents' house in less than half an hour. After greeting Rayyan's parents, Elara chose to head to her room, and Rayyan did the same, following her since his room was on the same floor.

"Make me fettuccine," Rayyan requested just before Elara opened her door.

"Why ask me?" Elara replied, turning back to face Rayyan, who had already opened his door.

"Well, you're the one right in front of me," he answered nonchalantly. "Besides, it's your fault for being able to cook well." He continued before stepping inside his room and closing the door.

Elara wanted to respond, but Rayyan had already shut his door, leaving her fuming and slamming her door harder than she intended.

After freshening up, Elara changed out of her college clothes into more comfortable home attire. After drying her long black hair and putting it up in a bun, she stepped out of her room to prepare dinner. As she left, she shot an annoyed glance at Rayyan's door. She kicked the air with her right foot, as if it were Rayyan himself.

"What are we cooking tonight?" Elara asked the housekeeper of Granny Ada. The middle-aged assistant listed the menu items the homeowners wanted. "Mr. Rayyan said you were making dinner," she added, receiving a scoff from Elara in response.

"Who said I was going to make him dinner?" Elara muttered quietly, causing the housekeeper to chuckle softly.

"Of course, I said so," Rayyan replied from behind Elara, startling both her and the housekeeper. "After eating salty food, you need to balance it with something sweet. One way is to look at Miss Elara," he added, poking her chin with his index finger, prompting Elara to quickly rub her chin as if she had just touched something disgusting.

"Ugh!" Elara exclaimed, mimicking someone about to vomit. Rayyan and the housekeeper laughed at her expression. "Besides, why are you here? Want to help cook?" Elara asked, casting a suspicious glance at Rayyan. He nodded, causing Elara to look at him in disbelief. "Really?" she asked again, and Rayyan nodded once more.

"Helping with prayers," he said, grabbing a freshly washed tomato before stepping out of the kitchen. Elara clenched her right fist and punched the air in frustration at her uncle's attitude.

"Miss, please don't be like that," the housekeeper scolded.

"I'm just annoyed seeing him," Elara grumbled. "I really hate him, I swear." She continued, her face scrunched up in annoyance as she reached for a knife.

The housekeeper burst out laughing at her words. "Be careful; I've heard that hate and love are very close to each other. Some say hate is just unexpressed love," she said, leaving Elara wide-eyed in surprise.

"Do you have to keep repeating that warning? God forbid I ever fall in love with someone like that. I hope not!" she said, knocking her head and the kitchen table alternately.

In the classroom, Rayyan could be the sociable type who was well-liked by many students, but at home, he was always a nuisance to Elara. However, Rayyan transformed again when talking to his parents.

Even though their conversations were lighthearted, Elara could see that Rayyan deeply loved and respected both of them. She could tell from the way he spoke to them. When he and her father discussed business matters, Rayyan appeared serious, a good listener, and meticulous before making comments or offering solutions.

Sometimes, Elara thought her uncle had many sides to him. She was curious about how he acted when trying to impress a woman. Given that both her uncles had expressed their desires to be playboys before choosing to mend their ways, Elara was eager to witness Rayyan's tactics firsthand.

Dinner was over. Elara returned to the kitchen to help clean up after the meal. Although Granny Ada and the housekeepers didn't allow her to assist, Elara felt it was her duty to lend a hand.

Her mother had always said that she should be able to do many things as a woman, even if they were traditionally considered men's jobs.

"We are women, and people say women are weak. But please, let's eliminate that stigma. At the very least, we should do anything we can."

"Is it really true that you can't use a hammer to drive in a nail? Or do you have to wait for someone else to connect the gas to the stove and choose to starve because you can't cook?

"No, sweetheart. Do what you can, even if it's considered a man's job. Let alone a woman's job.

"We have housekeepers, okay? Some clean, some do the laundry and ironing, some cook, and some wash the dishes. But just because they are there, doesn't mean you can't do anything.

"I don't want you to be unable to cook. I don't want you to be afraid of getting splashed with oil when frying fish or meat. I don't want you to complain when your hands get burned by the edge of an iron.

"It's a risk. Before a child can stand and walk, they will fall first. So, before someone becomes skilled, they will experience failure first.

"I'm urging you to learn many things not because I don't love you, but precisely because I do love you.

"At the very least, you should be able to clean your own room, do your own laundry and ironing, and cook your favorite food by yourself. Why? Because there will come a time when you need to do everything on your own.

"For instance, if you work and live in a city different from mine, it's impossible for me to keep going back and forth to manage your room and laundry. Or if you can't cook, does that mean every time you want to eat you have to go to a restaurant? That's just wasteful.

"As long as you can do it yourself, just do it. Or bitterly, if you end up marrying someone whose income only covers your food expenses, do you want to strangle your husband to make him hire a housekeeper for you?

"Or do you want to ask your husband to do everything himself? What will your in-laws say about having a daughter-in-law who just sits around with her feet up?"

And because of that long advice, Elara became accustomed to all household chores. She was never ashamed of it; in fact, she took pride in everything her mother taught her. It was proven one day when Elara stayed over at a friend's house and washed her own dirty dishes. Her friend's mother praised her, saying she was a diligent child.

Elara felt proud of that, as it reflected well on her mother's reputation and meant she wasn't labeled as a spoiled child.

"Ela, darling..." that teasing voice made Elara roll her eyes while the housekeeper chuckled softly. "Make me some coffee, will you?" he coaxed, standing behind Elara, who was still busy washing the dishes.

"Let me make it for you, sir," offered the housekeeper.

Elara could sense Rayyan shaking his head behind her. "I need a balance in taste. After being treated to the savory dishes made by my beloved Elara, it's time for something sweet from the same hands."

Elara scoffed at that. "You're so lazy. You could make it yourself." She grumbled, which only elicited more laughter from Rayyan.

"If someone else can make it for me, why should I make it myself?" Rayyan said, winking at the housekeeper as if seeking her support.

"Consider it practice for making coffee for your future husband," the housekeeper chimed in with a smile.

Elara glanced at the middle-aged woman, handing over the last plate she had washed. Without drying her hands, she turned around and splashed her wet hands at Rayyan, who instinctively jumped back to avoid the splash.

"Such a slacker," she said, walking toward the pantry. "What kind of coffee do you want?" Elara asked, pointing to the various packaged coffee brands on the shelf. "Don't ask me to grind coffee and make you an espresso. I can't do that," she added before Rayyan could say anything.

Rayyan chuckled, pointing to the blue package. "Just that one, the coolin flavor. That way, the one who makes it can be calm," he teased, making Elara glare at him. "Take it to the backyard, okay?" he instructed as he left the kitchen.

Despite rolling her eyes, Elara did as Rayyan asked.

She carried a tray with coffee cups and two jars of Granny Ada's cookies to the backyard, where Rayyan had asked her to go. It wasn't her goodwill that made her bring the jars; Rayyan had yelled at her to take them along with the coffee he had requested earlier.

If she weren't afraid of being disobedient, she wouldn't have done it. Unfortunately, Rayyan was still her uncle, older than her, and her parents always taught her to respect her elders.

Rayyan was sitting on a thick-cushioned rattan chair with his laptop on his lap and several sheets of paper spread across the glass table in front of him. Elara cleared her throat loudly to announce her arrival. The man, wearing glasses, looked up and smiled sweetly at her.

"Where should I put these? The table is full of papers," she said sharply, making Rayyan realize the important documents scattered around him.

The man placed his laptop on the chair next to him, organized the documents, and then asked Elara to put the tray on the table.

Elara complied, setting the tray down and turning to leave, feeling that her task was complete.

"Where are you going?" Rayyan asked, curious.

"Upstairs," Elara replied curtly.

"What for?" Rayyan pressed again.

"Why do you want to know?" Elara shot back, her tone sarcastic. "Feeling lonely? Want some company?" she teased.

"No," Rayyan answered flatly as he settled back into his chair. "Just confused about who will wash the coffee cup I just drank from." His laugh made Elara glare at him.

Elara huffed and stomped her foot before heading back into the house toward her room.

"Ela!" Rayyan called after her.

"Wash it yourself!" Elara shouted as she walked away. "You have hands!" she added, her voice growing softer in Rayyan's ears.