CHAPTER 16

Chapter 16: Dinner at My Apartment

As we walked back from the street food vendor, I noticed how the evening had settled into a comfortable silence between us. The air was cool, with a gentle breeze rustling through the trees lining the street. The bustling sounds of the city seemed to fade away, replaced by the quiet hum of our footsteps.

“Professor JM,” I began, breaking the silence, “since it’s already evening, would you be up for dinner? I could cook something for you, if you’re interested.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Cook for me? I’m not sure what I did to deserve that, but I’m not going to turn down an offer like that.”

I grinned, feeling a little more confident than usual. “Well, it’s not fancy, but I can make pinikpikan—a traditional dish from my hometown. It’s one of my favorites, and I think you’ll like it.”

Professor JM looked impressed, though I wasn’t sure if he was just being polite. “Pinikpikan? I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never had the chance to try it. I’d love to see what your cooking is like.”

“Great,” I said, feeling a rush of excitement. “It’s not hard to make, but it takes a little time to prepare. It’s a comfort food, really.”

We arrived at my apartment, and I led Professor JM inside. The familiar scent of home greeted me—my place felt cozy, and I liked how it looked now that everything was in order. I gestured for him to make himself comfortable on the couch.

“Please, take a seat. I’ll get started with the cooking,” I said, heading for the kitchen.

Professor JM nodded, looking around the space as he settled into a chair. “You really have a nice setup here, Junno. It’s simple, but it feels homey.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. “I like it here. It's perfect for college life.”

I started pulling ingredients from the fridge—chicken, ginger, green onions, and the important part: etag (dried salted pork). The key to making pinikpikan was in the preparation, specifically the technique used to tenderize the chicken by lightly beating it. Though I had done it many times before, there was a certain satisfaction in doing it right.

“I didn’t realize cooking was one of your talents,” Professor JM said from the other room, his voice soft but curious. “It’s clear you know your way around the kitchen.”

I chuckled, feeling a bit self-conscious but also proud. “I guess it runs in the family. My mom taught me how to cook, and I’ve been practicing since I was young.”

“Very impressive,” he replied, sounding genuinely interested.

I chopped the ingredients, carefully preparing everything for the dish. As the pinikpikan simmered on the stove, the aroma filled the room, rich with the scent of ginger and the smoky undertones of the dried pork. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I heard Professor JM inhale deeply from the other room.

“I can smell it from here. It smells amazing,” he said, his voice tinged with anticipation.

I smiled, glancing at him. “It’s almost ready. I just need to let it cook for a bit longer.”

When everything was finally done, I placed the steaming bowl of pinikpikan on the dining table, along with a plate of rice. The golden-brown chicken, rich broth, and tender pork were a sight to behold. It was simple, but the warmth of the meal made everything feel more welcoming.

“Here you go,” I said, setting the bowl down in front of him. “I hope it’s to your liking.”

Professor JM looked at the dish with wide eyes, impressed by the presentation. “I have to admit, I’m already excited. It smells incredible.”

I sat down across from him, watching as he took his first bite. His expression softened with genuine surprise. “Wow, Junno. This is... amazing.”

A rush of pride filled me at his compliment. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a dish from my hometown, so I always feel a connection to it whenever I cook it.”

Professor JM smiled, taking another bite. “I can taste the love and care you put into it. It’s definitely something special.”

We continued eating in companionable silence, the tension that had once lingered between us starting to dissipate. It was just the two of us, sharing a meal, and in that moment, everything felt easy. The way he looked at me as he ate, the quiet admiration in his eyes—it was enough to make my heart beat a little faster.

“So,” he said after a few more bites, setting down his spoon. “What’s it like being here? Living away from your family and all.”

I thought for a moment before replying, feeling the warmth of the meal settle comfortably in my stomach. “It’s different, but I like it. I’ve always been independent, so it’s not too hard for me. I miss my family, of course, but I think this is part of growing up.”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “It must be tough, though, adjusting to a new environment and being away from home.”

“It can be,” I said, meeting his eyes for a moment. “But you get used to it. And having moments like this, where I can share something with someone... it makes it all worth it.”

There was a pause between us, a quiet, almost unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The sound of the rain tapping softly against the windows outside filled the silence, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

I hadn’t expected it to happen, but as we sat there, the connection between us deepened. There was a certain comfort in his presence, a warmth that made the moment feel special. It wasn’t just the meal; it was the way we interacted, the way he looked at me with a mixture of admiration and something else that I couldn’t quite place.

“Thank you for this, Junno,” Professor JM said, breaking the silence with a soft smile. “You’ve made this a memorable evening. I think I might need to ask for the recipe.”

I laughed, feeling a bit shy but grateful. “I’ll write it down for you sometime. But you’ll have to come back to taste it again first.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than usual. “I think I’d like that.”

It was a simple, quiet moment, but it was enough to spark something deeper between us. As we finished our meal and the evening wore on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this—what we were beginning to share—was more than just friendship. It felt like the start of something new, something neither of us had expected, but both of us were beginning to enjoy.