"Wait, this is enough to satisfy you? A plain cold-cut sandwich?" I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Didn't you just demand a whole buffet a minute ago?"
"I was just joking around, you know. Trying to mess with you." She shrugged lightly and gave me a soft smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "In all honesty, I'm fine with anything you make."
"Even a plain sandwich that I made in the morning?" I raised an eyebrow.
Her smile widened, gentle and sincere. "Even if it were just a single slice of bread." She said, her voice warm and unwavering. "If it's made by you, I'd eat it happily." Her gaze drifted, as if she were reminiscing. "There's something about your food, Luca—even the simplest things. It's like tasting all those wonderful dishes you've made over the years. That familiar taste, the comfort of knowing it comes from you, my son…That's all I really want."
I felt a strange mix of pride and warmth settle in my chest, her words wrapping around me like a blanket as I said, "You're getting sentimental over a sandwich you haven't even taken a bite into, you know."
"I don't need to taste it to know it's good...Even if it tastes bad, I'd still eat happily since it was made by you, Luca." She laughed, a soft sound that made the air feel lighter.
"S-So, you're okay with a sandwich for dinner?" I asked, feeling a warmth in my chest I wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.
I watched as she took the sandwich in her hands, her fingers brushing the crust with the kind of reverence usually reserved for something far grander. Her eyes softened, and she smiled at me, that familiar warmth shining through as she said,
"More than okay...I'll take this over any five-star meal if it means I get to share it with you."
For a moment, I just stared at her, my brain short-circuiting. 'Is she trying to seduce me?' Because, honestly, if she keeps this up, she's going to sweep my heart away like some sentimental drama lead. I quickly shook off the thought, pretending to focus on the plate of sandwiches in front of me.
Clearing my throat, I slid the plate between us and gestured to the neatly stacked sandwiches.
"Okay, there are four of these. How many do you want?" I asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
Without hesitation, she waved a dismissive hand.
"One's plenty for me."
"Mom, you're allowed to have more than one, you know." I narrowed my eyes at her, trying not to sound annoyed.
She gave me a look, that classic mom look—the one that made it clear the discussion was already over before it began.
"I said one, and I meant it, Luca." She insisted, her voice firm but lighthearted. "That's more then enough for me."
I sighed, resigned to the inevitable.
I knew this game too well. Pushing her to take more was like trying to convince the sky not to be blue. Even if I argued until I was red in the face, she'd stick to her motherly instincts. It didn't matter that I was fully grown, she'd still prioritize me like I was a kid who needed all the food in the world.
"Fine, one it is." I pulled the plate toward myself, the remaining three sandwiches looking like a small mountain. "But you can't be waking me up in the middle of the night, telling me to cook something up for you because you're hungry."
"Sure, Luca...I'll just eat your cute little face instead."She chuckled, a sparkle in her eye as she couldn't help but pull on my cheeks, while I fighting the hardest not to blush.
We then both picked up our sandwiches, but she didn't take a bite until I did. Her eyes were fixed on me, that subtle maternal radar making sure I ate first.
I took a big bite to satisfy her unspoken requirement. The moment she saw me chewing, she finally lifted hers and took a small, delicate bite.
And the moment she did, her eyes widened immediately. "Mmm!" Her expression lit up like she'd tasted something extraordinary. "Oh, Luca, this is incredible! The flavors, the balance—even the mustard is just right, placed in between the veggies and cheese just like I taught you so that the bread doesn't get soggy!" She pressed her fingertips to her lips, looking like she might get emotional. "It's perfect!"
"S-Seriously, Mom, it's a cold-cut sandwich. Store-bought bread, some ham, a slice of cheese, mustard...That's it." I nearly choked on my sandwich, coughing out a laugh.
She shook her head, completely unfazed by my skepticism.
"Don't downplay it, Luca! Even the simplest things taste like heaven when you make them." She held up the sandwich like it was some rare delicacy. "This isn't just food. This is a masterpiece!" She said like she was my biggest fan, when in all honesty she was, always lifting me up and making me proud no matter what I did or made.
"You're being ridiculous. It's not a gourmet dish." I groaned, my face heating up.
"It doesn't have to be. The love you put into it makes all the difference." She tilted her head, her smile growing softer.
I paused, the bite of sandwich halfway to my mouth. Her words landed deeper than I expected, the sincerity in her voice making my heart squeeze. I glanced away, suddenly feeling awkward.
"You're really laying it on thick, Mom."
She laughed, a sound so warm it felt like a hug.
"Well, someone has to make sure you know how amazing you are." She took another bite, her eyes practically shining with joy. "Honestly, if you opened a sandwich shop, I'd be your first customer, Luca. I'd probably be your only customer, because I'd eat everything, and of course you have to allow me to eat for free since I'm the one who taught you the basics of making an ideal sandwich."
"Yeah, and you'd single-handedly drive me out of business." I snorted, shaking my head.
"Then you can just come on to my show as my sous chef, Luca...I'd love to show the world how amazing my beloved son is." She replied with a grin.
A small smile formed at my lips...No matter how simple the meal, no matter how ordinary the ingredients, sharing it with her always made it feel like something more.
I took another bite, the sandwich tasting a little better than it did a moment ago.