Now that Nelanna and Cecil were married they had decided to get a larger place to live, needing more time to themselves, as well as more space for the family they were hoping to have someday. Kohaku didn’t mind the change, for Nelanna had given her cottage to him, a place of his very own. Since Cecil had started staying with them Kohaku had noticed how crowded the small house had become, and found that privacy was a rarity. And now they were gone, and Kohaku was left on his own, which worked out perfectly for him.
Recently there had been something going on between him and Mirannda. What it was exactly, Kohaku wasn’t entirely sure. Their relationship was mostly physical, however there was no denying that they were also growing as friends. Whatever their relationship was, all Kohaku knew for sure was just how much he loved it. She made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time, reminded him what it was like to get such attention. Mirannda was intoxicating, addictive like a drug. But most of all she kept his feelings off his mind. Never had he gone so long without having Nelanna on his mind; this time it was all Mirannda. He constantly thought about her, looking for more opportunities to see her.
This time, however, she sought him out.
Kohaku had been in the process of looking through his cookbook when there was an unexpected knock at the door. Mirannda had come, successfully surprising him with her arrival, bringing a basket of fruits and chocolates. She gave him a brief hello along with a swift kiss when he invited her inside. Mirannda neglected to explain why she had come, but Kohaku was grateful she came. He had planned to spend his evening alone, possibly reading until he grew too tired. Though he would never admit it aloud, living on his own got lonely more often than not, his nights spent in cold silence. It was boring, so whenever Mirannda came his spirits lifted instantly, leaving him beaming with warmth in his heart.
Once she made herself comfortable, Kohaku went back to his cookbook in the kitchen. He leaned forward on the counter with his arms holding up his head, eyes examining the numerous recipes. “You came just in time,” he called to Mirannda without looking up from the book. “I was trying to decide on what to make for dinner.” He turned another page. “This book has many great ideas, but I’ve already made most everything here.” He stood straight up, resting his palms on either side of the book as he glanced at his guest. A smirk showed as an idea came to mind. “As my guest, what do you think I should do?” Part of him wanted to make her one of his recipes, just to attempt getting her approval on his cooking. She hadn’t tried any of his cooking before.
