"Why are you even watching this? It's barbaric!"

I was watching Game of Thrones when Kent arrived. He sat beside me and removed his chef uniform. Kumunot ang noo nya nang makita ang pinapanuod ko. I didn't even like violence before I became pregnant. All those things they said about changing tastes were true... and not only on food.

The hardcore violence didn't even bother me.

"People are barbaric. They just don't show much on TV," I told him.

Inakbayan nya ako. "It won't be good for the baby."

"Why? She can't see."

"She?" His eyebrow arched. "So it's a girl now?"

"It's always been a girl."

"You don't know that."

Halos araw-araw kaming nagtatalo ni Kent dahil sa gender ng bata. He wanted a boy, I wanted a girl. He even asked me to bet on it. I don't understand men at all.

He grimaced as one guard push one's prisoner's head on a spike. "Ilipat mo nga ng channel!"

Inilayo ko ang remote. "Ayoko nga."

Pero napangiwi na rin ako nang makarating kami sa part na nanganganak yung fire priestess. Ugh. He was right. It's barbaric and disgusting. But once you get used to the garish stuff, you can appreciate the story and the honesty. The media often obscures the truth because they're scared that people will not get the rawness of things.

Kaya minsan, kahit totoo na, nakaka-shock pa rin.

"Why can't you just watch cartoons?" he asked in impatience.

"Cartoons are for kids. I'm not a kid," I replied.

"But you're carrying one inside of you." He touched my tummy. "I don't want our kid to be violent."

"She's not going to be violent," I assured him.

"If it's indeed going to be a girl, I'd want her to learn how to cook," he told me.

"I can cook for you."

He made a face. "You can't cook."

"I can. Just not as good as you."

"You're way off the target."

Sinamaan ko sya ng tingin. "Only because you won't teach me."

"I've taught you. You just didn't learn."

--

Kent told me that he enjoys cooking so much that he'd rather cook for himself than eat someone else's cooking. But sometimes, he would insist that I cook for him. Well, he's torturing himself, and me.

I wish I could cook for him though. But I'd rather eat.

And now, I'm craving for some pasta. And I want to eat them with chopsticks. Ugh. I'm getting hungry. Kakakain ko lang kanina bago sya umalis. Ang hirap ng buntis. Palaging gutom.

I know I could simply order from a restaurant. But Kent makes a mean spaghetti. Just thinking about it makes my stomach growl. So I called him and told him I'm coming to the restaurant. He didn't like it.

"I'll cook you spaghetti when I get home," he said.

"Gusto ko nang kumain ng pasta ngayon."

"I'm busy, Jazz."

"Fine. I'll ask France, then."

He grunted. "Why are you being difficult?"

"Nagugutom ako!" sagot ko sa kanya sabay end ng tawag. He may not want me there, but I want my spaghetti. I'm sure he'll understand.

--

"Chef!"

"What?!"

Nasa kabilang dulo sya from where I was standing, busy as a bee. He was shouting orders and cooking and cleaning and cutting and doing everything simultaneously. I have watched him for a minute before someone called out on him.

When he turned around, one of his assistants pointed at me.

He put the knife down, walked towards me, placed his hands on his hips like an angry landlady waiting for the rent and glared at me.

"I told you—"

"Chef." I eased the frown on his forehead. "Your daughter wants pasta."

He sighed. "New rule: don't use my son against me."

"I'm not. And it's a girl." I kissed his cheek. "Make me some spaghetti. I'll be waiting in your office."

--

I waited for almost 40 minutes bago niya ako pinuntahan sa office nya. He had with him a huge plate of spaghetti, cooked the way I like it. Inilapag nya 'yon sa lamesa tapos ay saka siya tumingin sa 'kin.

"Happy?"

"Chopsticks."

He frowned. "What?"

"Gusto ko ng chopsticks."

He rolled his eyes. Binuksan niya ang isang drawer sa table nya tapos kinuha nya yung isang mahabang box. When he opened it, there's a pair of red chopsticks with Chinese characters on them.

"What do they mean?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just eat. I'm busy."

"Well, that's a bit quipped, don't you think?"

Bumuntong-hininga sya. "Jazz... I'm busy."

"You already said that."

I took the chopsticks and gave them to him.

"Were they from that Chinese girl from that Chinese restaurant?"

"It was over, Jazz."

I shrugged. "Then why do you still keep these?"

"I... They're—I just like them."

He shoved them back to my hands.

"Are you angry that I asked?"

"Are you angry that I answered?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm just hungry."

I like using chopsticks but chopsticks don't like me. And it's proving to be difficult to eat pasta with them. They just slide off.

"Gusto mong gumamit ng chopsticks pero hindi ka naman marunong?"

Kinuha nya ang chopsticks saka nya ako sinubuan gamit yun. He's very good with it. Even the tiniest of pieces were picked up.

"Kumain ka na ba?" tanong ko sa kanya.

"I'm surrounded with food. I'm fine."

"Kumain ka rin."

He obliged. Naka-tatlong subo muna sya bago nya ulit ako pinakain.

"I should have cooked more."

"E di magluto ka pa. Pwede naman e."

"Paglabas ko dun, chef na ulit ako. Uunahin ko muna ang mga customers."

I touched his chin. "Then you eat this."

"But you're hungry."

"I was craving for pasta. You gave me pasta. That's enough."

"The craving had passed?"

"I can still manage until dinner."

He gave me a kiss. "You're a life-saver."

"Bumawi ka na lang sa dinner."

I asked him for another bite before getting up. I guess I'd have to eat bread for now. Mamaya na lang ulit ako magpapaluto ng spaghetti.

Nang nasa may pintuan na kami ng office nya, bigla nya akong hinarang.

"What?"

He cupped my face. "How's my baby?"

"I'm good."

"You're too old to be a baby, Jazz. I'm asking about him."

Sinamaan ko sya ng tingin. "Her. And she's fine."

"My baby looks good on you."

He kissed me. I bit his lower lip, tasting the spaghetti sauce on his mouth.

He really does cook a mean spaghetti.