The rich, savory aroma of Hinata's curry had fully enveloped the modest apartment by now, thick and comforting, seeping into every corner of the living room like a warm embrace against the heavier conversation unfolding on the worn sofa.
In the compact kitchen at the back, Hinata moved with quiet determination, her practical white sneakers planted firmly on the tiled floor as she stirred the bubbling pot. The wooden spoon scraped rhythmically against the sides, lifting thick waves of sauce that clung to the vegetables—carrots softening into tender orange chunks, potatoes absorbing the spiced roux, onions melting into sweet transparency.
Steam rose in steady, fragrant curls, carrying hints of turmeric, cumin, and the deep savory undertone of the roux blocks she had crumbled in earlier. She adjusted the heat with a small twist of the knob, her light-blue blouse sleeves rolled up to her elbows, ponytail swaying gently with each focused movement.
