Chapter 6 - THE UNSEEN RECOLLECTION
The flavor was not merely good—it was an exact, haunting replica of a taste he had not experienced in over thirty years.
The seared beef, the earthy thyme, and above all, that precise, faint, sweet trace of cinnamon underlying the garlic—it was a culinary signature that belonged to only one person in his entire life. A memory he had buried beneath decades of violence, power struggles, and dark street empire-building came rushing back with the force of a tidal wave.
Gabriel’s pale face flushed with a sudden, faint warmth. His hands rested flat on the table, the fingers digging into the Formica surface.
Norah, standing two feet away with her hands folded in her apron pocket, observed the dramatic shift in his demeanor. She had expected relief, perhaps even approval, but she had not expected this profound, silent shock.
"Is something wrong with it?" Norah asked quietly, her voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Is it too hot?"
Gabriel didn't answer immediately. He slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes focusing back on Norah’s face. But he was no longer looking at her like a random diner waitress or a potential threat.
His expression was filled with an intense, haunting curiosity—a mix of disbelief, sudden emotional vulnerability, and deep, quiet shock.
He looked at her messy brown hair, her clear brown eyes, and the steady, compassionate posture she held before him.
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Gabriel’s gravelly voice came out as a soft, trembling whisper that made Leo step forward in alarm:
“Who taught you this recipe?”
