Breaking Free | Natasha x OC

Chapter Four

"It's strange. I felt less lonely when i didn't know you."
____

Two weeks later

If anyone could see the all bad and dangerous Natara Faez now, each one of them would burst out laughing.

She personally was entirely sure that nothing in her entire life so far had been as stressful as this.

Behind a counter, tongue poking out from between her lips, phone in her left hand and some stone-feeling object she didn't know the name of in her right-- she called it 'her smasher', as it... well, smashed things.

The instructions of a woman from the TV sounded out, Tara trying desperately hard to keep up with them.
A paste started to form in her new mortar-- that's where her smasher had come from. She'd bought it just this morning, feeling very mundane while walking out with her shopping packet filled with ingredients for an attempt at the dish that currently had her on the verge of a heart attack.

Listening to the lady on the screen closely Natara fought the urge to find out where this woman lived so she could tell her just how hard she made it to keep up. For such an old woman she worked at far too fast a pace. No one could possibly be cooking this fast. It was ridiculous.

Once the paste looked close enough to the old lady's-- though it also looked a bit like a long lost deformed relative-- Natara poured in the olive oil and lemon juice.

She leant back with a sigh, wiping her forehead that was covered in sweat from the nerves of it all with the back of her arm. But before being allowed to properly breath, the old hag on screen moved onto the next thing.

A decision was made in that moment. Once all this was done she was finding that address...

After having rubbed the marinade over the pork Natara was finally allowed a break. Apparently the pig had to stand for thirty minutes. A bit privileged for a pig if anyone asked her. It was already dead, what would thirty minutes do? Either way, the oven was preheated before she collapsed on the couch, letting out a vocal groan and deciding to dedicate her time to self pity.

But somewhere during that pity party, her thoughts drifted.

Her days had been filled over the past two weeks. Cooking, cleaning, learning how to mow a lawn. She'd watched countless romance movies and even gone as far as to attend a sowing class. There she'd only learnt that sowing was much like stitching up a person.

And everything had come down to one person. One really annoying but stupidly exceptional person.

And this was Natara's chance to learn how to do mundane things, be domestic. The assassin had practically leaped at it.

The first thing she'd attempted to make was a Russian dish, for obvious reasons. And she'd gone through lots of failed attempts before she'd finally gotten it right. And from there she'd continued.

She'd decided that when she saw Nat again she wanted to make her dinner. That's what normal people did for other people, right?
Unfortunately the Russian meal she'd spent days perfecting and learning from was no longer an option. Like the fool she was Natara realized Nat might not appreciate the dish because of its origins. What if the food was traumatizing? Could food even be traumatizing?

Natara didn't think she'd ever found Thai food particularly traumatic even after everything that happened to her. But Nat might be different.
So she'd thrown the option right out of her head as if it had personally offended her.

Circling back to the other skills she'd learnt and why exactly she'd learnt them, when Natara envisioned a future she found herself in a scenario where Nat had gotten a tear in her favourite outfit. What then?
So... despite being an assassin who would've been able to fix that had she given herself a moment to actually think about her skills, Natara had found a sowing class and booked it.