h4Chapter 249: You Know, I Love You/h4

    (Author’s POV)

    After that message from Fabian, Myra went to attend her remained sses and the day ended rather uneventfully.

    Later, around four, when herst ss was over, she saw a message from Yelena, "I will be going home, first ...." Myra checked the time and it was sent nearly an hour ago.

    She didn’t think much of it and strolled back to her house. But, when she returned back home, she smelled a weird, acrid odor. Rushing inside her ce, she saw Yelena was wrestling inside the kitchen with an uncooked turkey. She was punching the ingredients inside it rather than stuffing it. There were chopped vegetables all over the counter, the herbs and spices were spilled as well. All in all, it looked untidy and quite messy ...... chaotic.

    Yelena looked at Myra, "You are home," and gave her a brief smile. Her forehead covered in dried flour.

    "What the heck happened here? What are you doing, Yelena?" Myra voiced her concerned.

    Yelenaughed awkwardly and spoke, "You made breakfast today and Aunt Sandra and Uncle William make our meals all the time, so I wanted to make dinner for tonight," she looked around her and then added in a low, apologetic voice, "It looks a bit messy but I will clean up after this. I already made baked eggnts after watching it on youtube," saying this, she stood with her hands behind her back. "And now, this damn turkey is going to get cooked." She kept the turkey in preheated microwave and closed the door.

    Myra strode forward, her expression unreadable. Yelena gulped down hard, she thought her friend would definitely scold her for creating such a mess in her house.

    "Show me your hand," Myra muttered, sternly, while extended her palm.

    "It’s covered in dough for the pita bread and spices. It will get on your hands and clothes, probably leave a stain," Yelena mumbled while avoiding eye contact.

    Myra was losing her patience, she herself grabbed Yelena’s hand from behind and asked, while showing her, her wrist, covered in red, unsightly blisters, "Why are you so careless, Yelena? You got injured and you still want to make dinner for everyone. Go and sit on the couch. I will bring the first aid kit," her voice was loud, reprimanding.

    Yelenapliantly followed Myra’s words and made her way towards the sofa.

    She settled their, with her shoulders slumped, her eyes downcast as she stared at her burnt wrist. She seemed a bit dejected, crestfallen, which was quite unusual of her.

    With her hand on her temples, Myra sighed, shook her head and walked towards the other side to grab the first aid kit.

    She seated beside Yelena and uttered, her voice gentle, "I am sorry for how I spoke earlier. I just got worried while seeing you in that state. You don’t have to go through all this. I know you aren’t ustomed to make meals for more than two people." She applied the soothing ointment carefully on the affected part as Yelena hissed, she was clearly in pain. "How did this happen? I am sure, thest time I was at your apartment, you could cook. So, why this tussling and rumpus?"

    Yelena scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment and confessed, "I was taking out the eggnts for the microwave and identally touched the tray directly."

    "You are mostly careful. So, what’s bothering you?" Myra was quick to ask. She could tell something must have happened.

    "No~ .... Nothing is bothering me. What would even happen? It is just like I sai~" Yelena mumbled while averting her gaze once again.

    "Yel ... tell me what has happened, huhh? Did someone bully you in your ss?" Myra insisted, staring straight at Yelena, not letting Yelena avoid her gaze.

    "No one dares to bully me, because of my grandfather," Yelena mumbled. Myra nodded and asked, "Then what is it?"

    "It’s my~ ...... my grandmother called today," Yelena started, her voice sounding weary and a bit hoarse, gravelly.

    Myra pressed her lips together; she now understood the cause for Yelena’s conflict and distress, "Did she say something to you?"

    "Just her usual, concern ...... and nagging .... scolding ...... a bit cursing," Yelena concluded, with each word her voice became almost inaudible. And after that she didn’t say anything.

    Myra patted and rubbed her back softly. Giving her a side hug, she said, "Don’t think about troublesome matters, hmm. I am here with you. We all are here. Aren’t we a family?"

    Yelena smiled and nodded in agreement. Myra then instructed Yelena, "Don’t even think abouting to the kitchen. I will do the rest, cooking and cleaning. You should get some rest, after all that workout," she teased her yfully.

    Although, Yelena wanted to argue and help her, but Myra, she didn’t give her a chance and went about her business, banning her from entering the kitchen.

    Soon, William, Sandra arrived followed by Wendy. They were surprised to know that today’s dinner was prepared by Yelena. Myra had already cleared up the ce. Neither her nor Yelena mentioned anything about the chaotic mess from earlier.

    The baked eggnts and the bread came out pretty well. Even the turkey was tender and juicy. Sandra evenplimented Yelena for it, "This is so good. How did you make it like that? Give me the recipe, ahh."

    Yelena chuckled, "I will show you how to make it, next time."

    Just like that, the day and the dinner both went on without a hitch.

    Inside her room, Myrapleted her pending assignment, took a bath and then settled inside her bed.

    But a knock on her door interrupted her, as she said, "Come in."

    The door utched slightly and Yelena entered with her pillow one hand while the other held a stuffed brown dog, "Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight. I don’t want to sleep alone." She waited for Myra’s response.

    Myra gave her a wide smile and scooted over while patting on the bed, "Half~ yours."

    Yelena grinned and settled beside her, like a child, she ced her stuffed toy carefully in the middle and hugged her, "You know, I love you." She mutteredying on her side, while looking at Myra with admiration.

    To Be Continued . . . . . . .