(Ahmed returned to his apartment, laden with bags of fresh fish and large shrimp. As soon as he entered the kitchen, he began his work with great seriousness and attention. He washed the fish well, removing the last of the sea salt, then began to peel the shrimp carefully as if he was preparing something precious and priceless.
He took out of his small cupboard what he had brought with him from Yemen: his own special spices that had not left him since his arrival in Tokyo. He added ground cumin, dried coriander, and red chili pepper that would lend a warm, Eastern flavor to the taste. He squeezed fresh lemon over the fish and crushed garlic cloves to mix with a little oil.
He divided his work into multiple dishes; the first fish was deep-fried in oil until it became golden and crunchy, while the shrimp was submerged in a slowly cooked tomato sauce, topped with the aroma of the Yemeni spices that filled the place with a scent that resembled his distant home. Alongside it, he placed a small pot of fluffy white rice to be the perfect companion for this feast.
The apartment was filled with delicious smells, dancing in the air as if announcing a special celebration. Ahmed smiled to himself as he looked at what his hands had made, feeling that he was not just preparing food, but weaving a new bridge between his heart and the hearts of Misaki's family.)