Special ingredient

As twilight draped its violet cloak over the camp, we returned, laden with new equipment and high spirits. Esther set about preparing a hearty stew and flatbread for supper.

“Are you adding your special ingredient again, Esther?” I teased her, stirring the embers of our earlier conversation.

Esther's lips, once soft and warm, now harbored a secret only she was privy to. With a mischievous smile, she replied, “Maybe. But this time, the love is shared with everyone.”

Oman, barely looked up from his tome. “As long as it's edible, I couldn't care less.”

Zarah, a hearty laugh echoing through the camp, chimed in, “Oh, come on, Oman! Can't you smell that? It's more than just edible. It's divine!”

Nia, always the playful one, playfully swung an arm around my shoulders. “You're just lucky you aren't the one cooking, Oman.”

As we laughed and enjoyed the camaraderie, I couldn't help but notice Esther casting fleeting, veiled glances towards Nia. A subtle change in the rhythm of the evening, a melody only I seemed to hear. I filed it away, another mystery to explore.

As the night progressed, the aromatic stew bubbling away in the pot and the flatbread, golden and crisp from the fire, served as the centerpiece for our supper. The food was sumptuous, each mouthful an explosion of flavors and the apparent 'love' Esther promised.