The first light of dawn spilled gently into Elderwood, casting long golden streaks across the cobbled alleys. A rooster crowed in the distance, and a few shopkeepers stirred behind their wooden shutters. But at Noura's Kitchen, someone was already at work—though not the person one might expect.
Elias stood barefoot behind the stall's side counter, hair still messy from sleep, sleeves rolled up, and a wide grin plastered across his face. "Behold, the dawn chef returns!" he declared, lifting a basket of fresh vegetables as though he were presenting treasure.
Noura emerged from the storage pantry, blinking at the sight. "You're here... early."
"I never sleep well with an empty stomach," he said. "And I remembered you said you start before sunrise. I figured I'd lend a hand."
"You also said you don't do mornings."
"Ah, but that was before I tasted your semur ayam. Now I'd wake up for boiled roots if you made them."
Noura rolled her eyes, but she handed him a knife and pointed to a pile of carrots. "Fine. Just don't chop your fingers off."
***
They fell into an easy rhythm—chopping, boiling, stirring. The kind of quiet companionship that spoke more through movement than words. Every now and then, Elias would steal a bite of something or peek into a pot, earning playful swats from Noura's wooden spoon.
By the time the sun was fully above the horizon, Lira arrived with a basket of eggs and a knowing smirk.
"Well, well," she said, setting the basket down. "Looks like we've got a husband in training."
Noura nearly dropped a ladle. "Lira!"
"I'm just saying! Look at him—already peeling shallots and stealing tastes like he owns the place."
Elias gave an exaggerated bow. "An honor to be accused of such commitment."
Mika wandered in soon after, blinking sleep from her eyes. When she saw Elias behind the counter, she burst into giggles.
"Did we miss the wedding?"
"Why is everyone like this?" Noura muttered, cheeks pink.
"Because," Lira said, looping her arm through Mika's and dragging her toward the stools, "we've never seen you smile this much while cooking."
Elias didn't say anything, but he did glance at Noura, who kept her eyes on the bubbling pot in front of her.
***
The morning rush came in waves—early risers with baskets, children sent by their parents, a few familiar adventurers lured by rumor and hunger. Elias worked the tables like a natural, carrying trays and swapping stories with whoever would listen.
"Is he working here now?" one villager whispered.
"No idea," another said, "but I saw him slice vegetables like he's done it all his life."
"Maybe he's in love."
Noura overheard this one and nearly dropped a bowl of sayur lodeh.
***
When the stall finally quieted again, Elias brought over a bowl of tempe goreng, freshly fried and golden. "Tried one. Ate five. Need you to tell me what magic this is."
"It's just fermented soybeans, sliced thin, marinated in garlic and coriander, then fried until crispy."
"Just?" he repeated. "If I die today, know that I died happy and full."
Noura sat across from him with a tired smile. They both munched in silence for a while, letting the quiet settle around them. The midmorning breeze ruffled Elias's shirt and made Noura's hair tickle her cheeks.
"You know," Elias said eventually, "I used to eat food like this with my mother."
Noura looked up.
"She used to make flatbread in the mornings. Simple stuff. We didn't have much, but she made it feel like a feast. My father would pick wild herbs and mushrooms. We had a small stove and a big table. That table was the center of our world."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I lost them both when I was seventeen. War reached our village too fast. I was away, trying to earn coins as a beginner adventurer. I came back to ashes."
"I'm sorry," Noura said softly.
He paused, his gaze distant. "At first, I blamed myself. I thought if I'd been there, maybe I could've done something. Fought back. Saved them. But truth is, I was just a scared kid swinging a rusty sword. After that, I just kept moving—town to town, job to job. Never stayed too long. It was easier not to feel the weight of things when you were always packing up the next morning."
"But this place. This food. You. It reminds me that warmth still exists. That shared meals matter."
There was a long silence between them, filled only by the clink of ceramic and the rustle of leaves. Then Noura quietly said, "I didn't lose my family like that. But I lost something too."
Elias looked at her, listening.
"I had a life. A different one. It was all... work. Day in, day out. Office lights, endless documents, and expectations. I cooked only when I could steal a moment for myself. It was my escape. My little rebellion against the world's demands. But even that felt stolen." She paused, then gave a soft, almost bitter laugh. "Sometimes I forgot how to enjoy it. I was always rushing. Always tired."
She met his eyes. "I came here, somehow, and suddenly... I could breathe again. I could cook, not because I had to—but because it brought people together. Because it meant something."
Elias nodded slowly. "So we're both escapees, in a way."
She smiled faintly. "Or survivors."
He lifted a piece of tempe goreng. "To surviving."
She lifted one too. "And to cooking."
Their fingers brushed as they both reached for the dipping sauce.
***
By late afternoon, they were both too tired to cook more. The pot fires had gone out, the stools were empty, and the sun had started its lazy descent. Elias leaned against the wooden post of the awning, watching the sky change color.
"So," he said, "if you ever decide to expand, I can be your official taster. Quality control."
"I think you just want free food."
"Caught red-handed."
There was a pause. Elias turned to her, more serious now.
"Noura, I don't know where my path leads next. But I think... I'd like to stay here a little longer. If that's alright with you."
She looked up at him. "I'd like that."
Their eyes met—quiet understanding between them. The beginnings of something tender, something real.
Recipe: Tempe Goreng (Fried Tempeh)
Ingredients:
200g tempeh, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic
1 tsp coriander seeds
1/2 tsp salt
150 ml water
Oil for frying
Instructions:
Grind garlic and coriander into a paste.
Mix with water and salt to make a marinade.
Soak tempeh slices in the mixture for 10–15 minutes.
Heat oil in a pan and fry tempeh until golden brown and crispy.
Drain and serve hot with chili sauce or as a snack.
As Elias crunched into another piece, he grinned. "Tell me again why you haven't opened a kingdom-wide franchise?"
Noura raised an eyebrow. "Because then I'd have to deal with people like you every day."
He clutched his chest dramatically. "Wounded. But still hungry."
She laughed. "Go set the table, Mr. Three Stomachs."
And he did, whistling all the way—like someone who finally, maybe, found a place to call home.
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