The smell of roasted spices, sizzling butter, and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as the kitchen table was loaded with dish after dish. I eyed the spread with a mixture of anticipation and mild scepticism.
Ciara, as always, was buzzing with energy, her hands animated as she gestured towards the food.
"I'm telling you, Aeliana," she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "This is the one. This caterer is perfect for the wedding. Their culinary skills are unmatched!"
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the gleaming plates. "Unmatched, you say?"
"Absolutely," she insisted, pulling a chair out for me with a flourish. "Wait until you try the roasted duck. Or the honey-glazed vegetables. Or—"
I held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "Ciara, you know I trust your judgement on many things, but food? That's a territory your grandmother Leora has already conquered."
Her enthusiasm faltered for the briefest of moments, and I smirked. "You cannot seriously think this spread could rival hers."
"Hey!" she protested, dropping into the seat beside me with exaggerated offence.
"I'm just saying we should keep our options open. Leora might be the Demon Realm's best chef, but she's also one person. And this wedding is going to have hundreds of guests!"
I tapped my chin thoughtfully, knowing full well how much she hated it when I poked holes in her plans. "True. But isn't she also capable of conjuring up enough food to feed an army without breaking a sweat? I've seen her do it."
Ciara groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Why do you always have to be so logical? Just try the food, Aeliana. Humour me."
I picked up a fork, giving her an exaggeratedly sceptical look before spearing a piece of what looked like honey-glazed carrot. I took a bite, and my immediate thought was: it's good. But good wasn't enough when Leora existed.
Ciara leaned forward, watching me with expectant eyes. "Well?"
I chewed slowly, letting the suspense build. "It's…" I paused dramatically, "...decent."
"Decent?" she repeated, her voice incredulous. "That's all you've got? Decent?"
I laughed, unable to hold back any longer. "Ciara, it's lovely. Truly. But you have to admit it doesn't hold a candle to your grandmother's cooking."
She groaned, slumping back in her chair. "You're impossible."
"No," I corrected, popping another carrot into my mouth. "I just have standards. And you, of all people, should understand that."
She muttered something under her breath about "standards being too high" but didn't argue further. Instead, she reached for a plate of roasted duck, carving a generous slice and placing it on my plate with a determined look.
"Fine," she said. "But if you're going to dismiss the best caterers in the realm, you're going to taste everything first."
The next hour turned into an impromptu taste-testing marathon. Ciara insisted I sample every dish, from the aromatic saffron rice to the perfectly seared salmon.
Some were exceptional, others less so, but none could quite reach the pinnacle of culinary perfection that was Leora's cooking.
At one point, I found myself trying to hide my laughter as Ciara took a bite of a particularly salty soup, only to immediately choke and reach for her water. "Okay, maybe this one's not a contender," she admitted, coughing dramatically.
"Not a contender?" I teased. "That soup just declared war on your taste buds."
She gave me a mock glare, but her lips twitched with amusement. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Guilty as charged," I admitted, leaning back in my chair. "But honestly, Ciara, why are you so against just letting your grandmother handle the food? She'd love to be involved, you know."
Ciara hesitated, her expression softening. "I know she would. But I also don't want her to feel burdened. This wedding… it's a lot. And I don't want to pile more onto her plate just because she's the best at what she does."
I reached out, taking her hand in mine. "Leora doesn't see it as a burden, Ciara. She loves you. And she loves me, too, though she might not admit it outright."
Ciara's lips curved into a small smile. "She does. She's just… reserved."
"Then let her help," I said gently. "It's her way of showing she cares."
Ciara nodded slowly, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand. "You're right. As usual."
"Always," I teased, squeezing her hand.
We sat there for a moment, the chaos of the earlier taste-testing fading into a quiet warmth. I could see the wheels turning in Ciara's head, her determination warring with her desire to make everyone happy.
"I'll talk to her," she finally said. "But don't think you've won this round, Aeliana. I'm still going to find a way to surprise you at this wedding."
"I look forward to it," I replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to face me fully. "You're lucky I love you, you know."
"Trust me," I said, smiling. "I'm very aware."
As we began clearing the table, Ciara's earlier enthusiasm returned in full force. She started brainstorming new ideas for the wedding, her words tumbling out in a rapid stream of thoughts.
I listened, amused and endlessly fond, as she plotted and planned with her usual flair for the dramatic.
And though I knew there would be more chaos to come, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
As the last of the dishes were cleared away, Ciara paced around the kitchen, her mind evidently running at a hundred miles per hour. Her arms waved dramatically as she voiced her latest wedding ideas, some bordering on the absurd.
"Picture this," she began, spinning on her heel to face me, her eyes alight with enthusiasm.
"A magical light display during the reception, something that dances in time with the music. Maybe flames—no, wait! Purple flames, to match your eyes."
I leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, suppressing a laugh. "Purple flames at a wedding, Ciara? Are we celebrating love or hosting a fire festival?"
"Why not both?" she shot back, entirely unbothered by my teasing.
"Because," I said, stepping closer to her and brushing a strand of hair from her face, "the last thing we need is your grandmother having a heart attack while guests run for cover."
Ciara grinned, unabashed. "Alright, maybe the flames are a bit much. But what about enchanted flowers? Ones that glow softly at night?"
"That," I said, tilting my head, "actually sounds beautiful. A rare gem of an idea among your… wilder ones."
She gasped in mock offence, clutching her chest. "Wilder? You wound me, Aeliana. I'm just trying to make this wedding unforgettable."
I reached for her hand, pulling her gently towards me. "Ciara, it's already going to be unforgettable. Because it's ours. We don't need fireworks or glowing flowers to make it special. We just need each other."
For a moment, her fiery determination softened into something quieter, something tender. "You always know what to say," she murmured, her fingers tightening around mine. "But that doesn't mean I won't still try to make it perfect."
"Perfection is overrated," I said with a teasing smile. "Though I suppose if anyone could pull it off, it's you."
Her lips curved into a small, mischievous grin. "You really think so?"
"Always," I replied, leaning in to kiss her softly.
The kiss was brief but filled with all the warmth and love that had grown between us over time. As I pulled away, I rested my forehead against hers, letting the comfortable silence stretch between us.
"Now," I said, breaking the quiet, "how about we focus on something a bit more immediate? Like, what's for dessert?"
Ciara laughed, the sound light and infectious. "You're insatiable, aren't you?"
"Only when it comes to sweets," I replied with mock seriousness.
"Well, lucky for you, I saved the best for last," she said, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out a plate of what looked like decadent chocolate tarts.
"Now this," I said, my eyes lighting up, "is an idea I can get behind."
She set the plate on the counter and handed me one of the tarts, watching with amusement as I took a bite.
The rich chocolate melted on my tongue, and I couldn't suppress the contented sigh that escaped me.
"Good?" she asked, though her knowing smirk suggested she already had her answer.
"Perfect," I said around a mouthful of chocolate.
We spent the next few minutes indulging in the tarts, the mood light and carefree. It was a welcome change from the whirlwind of wedding preparations that had consumed our lives recently.
As we finished the last of the desserts, Ciara leaned against the counter, her gaze soft as she looked at me. "You know," she said, her voice quieter now, "I don't say it often enough, but… I'm so lucky to have you."
"Ciara—"
"No, let me finish," she interrupted, her expression earnest.
"You ground me, Aeliana. You remind me of what really matters. I get so caught up in the details sometimes, in making everything perfect, that I forget to just… be. And with you, I can just be."
Her words warmed me in a way nothing else could. I reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to try so hard, Ciara. You're already everything I need."
She smiled, and it was one of those rare, vulnerable smiles that made my heart ache in the best way. "You really mean that?"
"Always," I said softly.
Ciara pulled me into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around me. I rested my head on her shoulder, content in the moment.
"Now," I said after a while, "how about we get out of the kitchen before you come up with another chaotic wedding idea?"
She laughed, pulling back just enough to look at me. "You're lucky I love you, Aeliana."
"I know," I teased, leaning in to kiss her once more.