Plan's POV

I woke up bright and early. Although my head wound was not yet completely healed it wasn't giving me any pain.

My sister P'Nat helped me to clean the wound as instructed by my doctor and also helped me to apply some triple antibiotic ointment on it before covering it with a new bandage.

I thanked her and she asked me if I was going to be alright being by myself in the house for the rest of the day because she had to go to her university.

I assured her that I was going to be alright.

After breakfast, I went to the kitchen and looked around for the ingredients that Mean had listed on his recipe. He had also listed other options just in case some ingredients were not available.

Thankfully I had most of the ingredients in my kitchen and the other options as well.

As I was cutting up the celery sticks into small pieces, P'Nat stepped into the kitchen. She was already in her uniform, ready to leave for school.

"Oh, there you are," she said. "I thought you were in your room. What are you doing here in the kitchen?"

"I'm trying to cook a dish for the first time," I said, "wish me luck."

"What's the name of the dish?" she asked.

"Banjawala something," I replied.

She burst out laughing.

"You don't even know the name of whatever you're cooking," she said still laughing, "I wish you all the luck, bro. See you later."

"Alligator," I replied, and waved to her before going back to cutting up the celery sticks.

I was not happy with my first try. It did not taste as good as the one that Mean brought me when I was at the hospital.

It was a good thing that I still had several hours left before lunch time to make a second attempt.

I had sent a second text last night to Mean telling him to come over to the house at lunch time because I had not specified the time in my first text.

On my second try, it tasted better but I was not too happy with it.  It still did not taste as good as the one Mean had cooked for me, dammit. He was going to tease me mercilessly.

Should I just scrap the dish? Should I just order it from the restaurant and then claim that I cooked it? No, that wouldn't work. He would be able to tell.

I was in the middle of my third try, when my gate buzzed.

I looked at the kitchen clock. It was very close to twelve noon.

I went to open the gate. It was Mean of course.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at the bandage on my head.

I touched the edge of the bandage lightly. "It's not giving me any problems," I replied.

He moved close to me and sniffed my hair.

"You smell of onions and garlic. What have you been up to?" he asked.

"Don't ask the obvious," I replied with a smirk.

"Come into my kitchen," I invited him when we entered the house.

"Said the spider to the fly," he said in a singsong voice.

We laughed together, remembering the popular nursery rhyme except it was supposed to be 'come into my parlor' instead of 'kitchen'. And the role of the spider was mine, or should it be Mean? Who was trapping who? No one I guess.

"So the surprise you mentioned in your text was this?" Mean asked as he was about to taste the bowl that contained my second attempt.

"No, no, no!" I grabbed the spoon from him, "that's a failed attempt! It tastes too salty. Wait for me to finish this third try."

"What??? You're on your third try already and you're not yet satisfied? This one looks good already," he said. "Are you afraid that I will criticize your cooking? Why are you always trying to outdo me?"

"I'm not trying to outdo you!" I cried, already feeling exhausted, "I'm just trying to make the dish taste good so that you....." my voice trailed off.

"So that I...?" he prompted.

To my great horror, I felt a tear trickle down from the side of my eye.