This was the first meal she had cooked for him, and the girl wished she had been in a betterstate when she made it. All day she had fretted about the daal's consistency, its color, worried that he would think she'd stirred in too much ginger or not enough turmeric.
He dipped his spoon into the gold-colored daal.
The girl swayed a bit. What if he was disappointed or angry? What if he pushed his
plate away in displeasure?
"Careful," she managed to say. "It's hot."
Her husband pursed his lips and blew, then put the spoon into his mouth.
"It's good," he said. "A little undersalted but good. Maybe better than good, even."
Relieved, The girl looked on as he ate. A flare of pride caught her off guard.
She had done well -maybe better than good, even- and it surprised her, this thrill she felt over his small compliment- The day's earlier unpleasantness receded a bit.
A thousand splendid suns
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