Chapter 10 - The Last Supper
We were old now. Julian sat on the back deck of our home, watching the sunset over the Hudson. The city was still noisy, still demanding, but for us, it was quiet.
"We did it, Nadia," he said, his voice slow and deliberate.
"We did," I said, sitting beside him with two glasses of espresso. "We built a life that was ours."
My phone rang. It was an anonymous number, but I knew who it was. I ignored it, setting it aside. The past had no place here.
"What's for dinner?" he asked.
I smiled, looking at the man who had been my protector, my partner, and my love. "Short ribs. The slow-cooked kind."
"My favorite," he said.
I stood up, walked back into the kitchen, and started to cook. The smell of the beef, the wine, and the herbs filled the air, a familiar, comforting perfume that had started it all.
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Life was a dish that had to be seasoned with courage, cooked with patience, and served with a healthy dose of defiance. And as I looked out at the man I loved, I knew that every bite had been worth it.
The city lights turned on, one by one, like stars in a night sky I no longer feared. I was Nadia Okafor, I was the head of a table that no one could ever diminish, and I was exactly where I belonged.
