Chapter 19: The Scent That Awakens the Dead

Chapter 19: The Scent That Awakens the Dead

"I'm so glad I helped you," I replied, feeling a full smile light up my face. But you helped me too. That day I noticed you from a distance and saw your pain, something clicked in my head. Looking at you, I said to myself, "I don't want to look like this anymore." I understood that I had to start living for myself, and not for the expectations of someone who was no longer there. That's why I began to do the things that I liked and that, due to things in life, I had stopped doing. I'm passionate about cooking, Ethan. Relighting the fires and seasoning as I pleased brought my soul back to my body.

Ethan listened to me with absolute attention, without letting go of my hand, letting our footsteps mark a leisurely rhythm on the gravel of the path.

"I know," he said, and a spark of amusement crossed his blue eyes. That day in the village store I noticed it immediately. When you answered me with such confidence that seafood deserved the change from red wine to white, I decided to play along. And let me tell you, your culinary therapy saved me, too. The smell of your kitchen came straight to my cabin every afternoon, blown by the wind. It was a delicious torture that, after weeks of abandonment, whetted my appetite and reminded me of what it was like to have the will to live.

We arrived at the clearing where our small wooden huts stood, with the Sea of Vik roaring loudly on one side. Ethan stopped and turned completely toward me, looking at me with a tender, determined seriousness.

"In fact, the Sunday we met in the liquor aisle was the first day I was going to start cooking on my own. He was terrified. So, Astrid—would you accompany me to my cabin today? Let's cook together. Let's make this a ritual to completely close our past and open, once and for all, the pages of a new and clean book. No past in between, no ghosts to drag us backwards. Just you and me, seeing what the future has in store for us.

He paused for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck shyly, letting out a short laugh that took away from the solemnity of the moment.

"I'm not very good at cooking, to be honest, but I know you'll guide me in the kitchen." Is that okay with you?

I looked at his cabin, looked at mine, and then stared at the horizon, where the waves were dying on the black sand. The weight of fifteen years of failed marriage, the pain of Anthony's contempt and humiliation suddenly felt like old ashes that the north wind was blowing away forever. I looked at Ethan, at his warm hand that still held mine, and nodded lightly.

"Sounds perfect to me, Ethan. Let's see how you cook.