"So," Aryan said, finally popping the lid off his ice cream and taking a massive spoonful. "Mmm. Okay. That's the stuff. That's pure joy."

  He looked at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  "You look pleased," he noted. "Like the cat who got the cream. Or in this case, the witch who got the brownie."

  "It is good," Wanda said, taking a bite. The rich chocolate melted on her tongue, coating her throat in sweetness. "You said you survived the parking lot. Was it... a battle?"

  Aryan groaned, leaning back against the sofa behind him. "Wanda, you have no idea. The Westview Supercenter on a Tuesday morning is a gladiatorial arena. It's not for the weak."

  She watched him, fascinated by the way his hands moved as he spoke.

  "Tell me," she urged. "I want to hear about your conquest."

  [Perspective: Aryan Spencer]

  "Okay, so picture this," I began, using my spoon as a pointer. "I'm in the produce section. I'm minding my own business. I'm looking for the perfect avocado. You know the drill… not too hard, not too squishy."

  Wanda nodded solemnly. "The avocado window is small."

  "Exactly! It's like a five minute window between 'rock' and 'guacamole'. So, I spot the Chosen One. It's sitting there, glowing with potential. I reach for it."

  I leaned in, lowering my voice.

  "And suddenly, a hand shoots out from the left. A claw, really. With red nail polish."

  Wanda's lips twitched. "An enemy."

  "A nemesis," I corrected. "Mrs. Higgins. I assume that's her name. She looked like Higgins. She was about four foot ten, wearing a floral tracksuit that was aggressive to the retina. She grabs the avocado. I grab the avocado. We are locked in a stalemate."

  "Did you... fight her?" Wanda asked, actually looking amused.

  "Physically? No. Psychologically? Absolutely. I gave her the 'Doctor Stare'. The one I use when a patient tells me they stopped taking their antibiotics because they felt better. I said, 'Ma'am, I have a roommate. She is very particular about her salads. If I come home with a sub par avocado, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences.'"

  Wanda giggled. "You used me as a threat?"

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  "I used you as leverage," I said. "I implied you were a salad connoisseur with a temper. It worked. She released the avocado. She muttered something about 'young people today' and stormed off toward the kale."

  "I am honored to be your excuse," Wanda said, taking another bite of ice cream.

  "You saved me," I said dramatically. "Mrs. Higgins looked like she bit."

  I watched her eat. She looked so much lighter than she had yesterday. The shadows under her eyes were fading.

  "But seriously," I said, dropping the act for a second. "I went a little overboard. I saw the lamb chops and I just... I remembered you liked the heavy stuff. So I bought a rack."

  Wanda paused. "Lamb?"

  "Yeah. And chicken thighs. I figured we're doing this roommate thing properly, we need protein. None of that 'toast for dinner' sad stuff."

  "In the... news," I started, treading carefully near the Fourth Wall but staying on the safe side. "People think of you as... spiritual. But I always thought..."

  I looked at her.

  "I always thought you needed something substantial. To ground you."

  Wanda looked at me. Her expression was unreadable for a moment and then it softened into something devastatingly tender.

  "You are right," she whispered. "I need... substance."

  "Well, you got it," I said, gesturing to the hallway. "We have enough meat to open a deli."

  We finished the ice cream in comfortable silence. I scraped the bottom of my tub.

  "Okay," I said, putting the empty container on the coffee table. "Phase One: Sugar Intake, complete. Phase Two: The Great Unpacking. Are you ready?"

  "I am ready," Wanda said, standing up and offering me a hand.

  I stared at her hand. It was a small gesture. But for someone who had been so closed off and so terrified of touch...

  I took it. She pulled me up.

  For a second, we were standing very close. I could smell the chocolate on her breath mixed with the vanilla of the room.

  "Let's go," she said, not letting go of my hand until we reached the hallway.

  "Okay," I said, hoisting the bag of potatoes onto the counter. "Strategy session. Vegetables in the crisper. Meat in the freezer, unless we're cooking it today. Dairy in the... well, the dairy spot."

  Wanda was already moving. She took the bag of spinach from me.

  "This," she said, inspecting the leaves. "We must wash this immediately. If it sits in the bag, it becomes... slime."

  "Agreed. Slime is the enemy."

  We stood side by side at the counter. I was unpacking the meats, she was dealing with the produce.

  "Look at this pepper," I said, holding up a red bell pepper. "Wanda, look at it. It's an architectural marvel."

  She glanced over, a small smile playing on her lips. "It is a vegetable, Aryan."

  "It's art," I insisted, placing it on the counter. "And these carrots? They still have the dirt on them. That's how you know they're real. They have grit."

  "You are romanticizing root vegetables," she accused, taking the carrots from me.

  "I romanticize everything," I admitted. "It makes life more interesting."

  I reached for the lamb rack. It was wrapped in butcher paper.

  "So," I said, unspooling the paper. "For lunch. I was thinking... we go big. Or we go home. Wait, we are home."

  "What is 'big'?" Wanda asked, arranging the apples in a bowl by color gradient (red to yellow to green).

  "Keema," I said. "Keema Matar. And we eat it with Parathas"

  Wanda stopped arranging the apples. She turned to me.

  "Keema," she repeated. The word sounded soft in her accent.

  "It's comfort food," I said. "But the heavy kind. The kind that makes you want to nap afterwards."

  "I like naps," she said.

  "Then it's settled."

  We started prep.

  "I will chop the onions," Wanda volunteered, grabbing the knife. "I am immune to their tears."

  "Show off," I grumbled, grabbing the ginger. "I'll handle the aromatics. And the meat."