Chunks of Bread in Steaming Hot Milk

…Rainy days held a unique charm because of the treat my mother prepared for us after school, which was a favourite of mine. She would take slightly stale bread, tear it into pieces, and arrange them in a tall glass set on a saucer with a spoon. It felt like the saucer turned this humble yet delightful snack into something grand. Then came a layer of white sugar, followed by a gentle pour of steaming hot milk, which fascinated me as it slowly filled all the spaces in the glass. A final touch of cinnamon completed the concoction. With a beaming smile, I would take the first bite, eyes closed, relishing the warmth and sweetness of this simple joy and feeling a deep love for my mother, how she must have loved me, spoiling me on a rainy day.

Little did I know that years later, in my relationship with my soulmate, food would become one of the most intimate expressions of our love—a culinary love affair that unfolded in the kitchen. Cooking together wasn’t just about the meals; it was a ritual, a dance of flavours and passion. In our Living Apart Together life, food was more than sustenance—it was connection, desire, and love, served on a plate…