150
The next morning dawned bright and clear, the kind of day that promised new beginnings. Yalda woke with the sun filtering softly through the villa’s curtains, her muscles still tender from last night’s passionate embrace with Ioannis.
She stretched languidly, a slow smile curving her lips. Today was the day she would return to the cooking class, and this time, she would not be the timid newcomer swallowed by judgment.
Alina and Ioannis had motivated her to tap into her bit h energy, they nee it was in there somewhere and she just needed to reach for it.
After a quiet breakfast of fresh fruit and herbal tea, Yalda dressed carefully but with purpose. She chose a tailored white blouse with subtle gold embroidery at the cuffs, paired with dark jeans and polished loafers; a look that balanced elegance and strength. A look She hadn't worn for so long.
She caught her reflection in the mirror and held her gaze. There was fire in her eyes, a flicker of boldness she had almost forgotten existed.
She was just as haughty as any one of the bitchy housewives, just as rich, or maybe richer. They had absolutely no right to look down on her, and she'd make that crystal clear today.
They may be married to rich business men but she was the kind of woman those business men would kneel to.
The drive into town felt different. The olive trees blurred past her window, but instead of nerves, her heart thrummed with quiet confidence. The villa, the sea, Ioannis, everything grounded her. She was no longer the fragile woman who sought approval; she was a force to be reckoned with.
She was.... Yalda Harris.
When Yalda arrived at the cooking school, she noticed the same group of women clustered near the coffee machine, whispering and exchanging glances. But today, Yalda walked in like she owned the place, because, in her own way, she did. With her head held high and shoulders squared, she stepped toward her workstation, setting down her bag with deliberate calm.
The brunette from the other day caught her eye and gave a small, tight smile. The redhead beside her raised an eyebrow. But Yalda was already immersed in the rhythm of the kitchen; the chopping, stirring, the rich scents of spices and fresh herbs mingling in the air.
Lira greeted her warmly. “Back for round two, I see.”
“Yes,” Yalda replied, her voice steady. “I’m here to learn, and maybe to teach a thing or two.”
Lira chuckled. “I like your spirit.”
As the class began, the conversation among the women started up again, but Yalda found herself cutting through the noise with sharp, witty remarks and effortless charm. When one of the ladies tried to dismiss her with a snide comment about “outsiders,” Yalda responded with a cool smile, “I’m no outsider, I've just been hidden for too long."
A ripple of laughter broke through the tension. Even the snobbiest faces softened, and a few heads nodded in grudging respect.
Yalda caught the brunette watching her with renewed interest, and for a moment, the usual social posturing shifted to something almost like curiosity.
Throughout the lesson, Yalda threw herself into the cooking with passion and precision, demonstrating skills she had learned from Alina. She shared anecdotes and tips with an easy confidence that captivated the room.
At one point, Lira announced, “Today, we’ll be preparing a classic Greek moussaka, with a twist.”
Yalda’s eyes sparkled. This was her moment. As she layered the aubergine and béchamel, she added a pinch of smoked paprika, a secret ingredient she had also learned from dearest Alina.
A woman from the back called out, “Where did you learn that?”
“Frok the greatest of all,” Yalda replied, turning with a playful grin.
The rest of the class watched as Yalda finished her dish, perfectly browned and bubbling. When Lira tasted it, her face lit up. “Magnificent! You have a gift.”
The snobby group no longer whispered behind their hands. Instead, a few asked Yalda for advice and even invited her to join them for coffee after class.
Yalda smiled inwardly. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
As the session ended, Yalda packed up with a light heart. She had come with the intention to stand her ground, and she had done more than that. She had claimed her space.
Outside, the sun was warm, the sky an endless blue. Yalda paused, taking in the moment before calling Ioannis.
“I survived,” she said with a laugh when he answered.
“I’m proud of you,” he replied. “You’re unstoppable.”
And in that moment, Yalda believed it.
~~
Later, as promised, the group gathered at the quaint café for coffee, Yalda included. The scent of espresso mingling with laughter and the soft clink of porcelain cups. The women settled around a large table, the barriers between them slowly dissolving.
“I have to admit, Yalda,” said the redhead with the sharp cheekbones, “you’re unlike anyone we’ve met here. Not just rich, but real.”
Yalda smiled, sipping her coffee. “I could say the same about you all. I’ve never really had a circle like this; people to just... talk with.”
The brunette nodded. “It’s like having a safe space. You know, where you can bitch about your husbands without judgment.”
A chorus of laughter erupted.
Yalda found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t almost all her life; she'd never had a circle of friends to gossip with and talk shit about people with. The gossip was lighthearted, petty squabbles about luxury brands, amusing anecdotes about charity galas, and even complaints about overbearing mothers-in-law.
For once, Yalda felt normal. No façyade, no masks, just women sharing stories.
“Do you ever feel like the whole charade is exhausting?” Yalda asked quietly.
The group exchanged knowing looks. “Every day,” the redhead admitted. “But that’s why moments like this matter.”
As the afternoon slipped away, Yalda realized how thirsty she’d been for this simple camaraderie. The judgments of the past melted beneath layers of laughter and understanding.
When it was time to leave,
the women embraced Yalda warmly. “You’re one of us now,” the brunette said softly.
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