Ping! Ping!

Iffah glanced at her notifications.

Nathan.

A list of recipes filled the group chat—most from Kenshin Inferno, the rest added in between.

The others followed easily.

Iffah read through them once.

Then again.

Her eyes slowed at certain steps.

Not reacting.

Just… comparing.

At home—

Iffah stood in the kitchen, pan in hand.

The sound of metal against the stove echoed—slightly too loud, slightly too fast.

Iffah stood in front of the stove, focused.

But not steady.

Her siblings lingered nearby.

Watching.

Waiting.

Judging—without saying much.

She flipped the fish.

Too early.

Adjusted the heat.

Too late.

“…again,” she murmured.

This wasn’t new.

Practising. Repeating.

Still unsure.

Because, unlike Nathan—

She didn’t know what she was doing right.

Only what felt… off.

The pan sizzled again.

This time, she didn’t move immediately.

She watched.

Listened.

Compared.

Somewhere in her mind—

The patterns were starting to form.

The meal was served.

Iffah stood by the table, wiping her forehead.

Waiting.

Her siblings ate in silence.

Her younger brother picked a piece of fried fish.

Dipped it into the sambal kicap.

He paused.

Then took a bite.

Iffah didn’t move.

Just watched.

Her siblings don’t say much.

But their behaviour changes.

He chewed.

Paused.

Then reached for another piece.

No comment.

Just… continued eating.

Iffah blinked once.

Her eyes dropped to the plate.

Then back again.

“…oh.”

Back at the apartment, Nazha ate her dinner quietly.

Her phone rested beside her plate.

She opened the chat again—Faizal’s messages.

Nazha snorted softly, shaking her head.

Back at The Sea Hotel, near JPNS, Megat sat by the desk, his notes open.

Nazha’s name was written there, lined with observations, small details, quiet progress.

He leaned back slightly.

A faint smile formed.

“…you’re adapting faster than expected,” he murmured.

His pen tapped once against the page.

Then paused.

For a moment—

His gaze drifted, as if recalling something familiar.

Not quite the same.

But not entirely different either.

“…still you,” he said under his breath.

“Just… not in the same form.”

A soft exhale.

“Looks like you’re evolving… in a different shell.”

He closed the notebook halfway.

Not fully.

“…your independence shows up most when it matters.”

Another pause.

“…just like before.”

But he didn’t elaborate.

And he didn’t write that part down.

Wednesday morning.

Nathan greeted Iffah at the gate. Their arrival time matched by coincidence, not planning.

Iffah adjusted her bag strap.

“…morning,” she said softly.

Nathan nodded.

“Morning.”

A short pause.

“…how was yours?” he added.

Iffah hesitated.

“…okay.”

Hasya appeared behind them, stretching her arms.

“Why do you both look like you’re about to present a thesis instead of cook food?”

Naufal followed, laughing lightly.

“Let them be. They’re in ‘focus mode’ already.”

Hasya smirked.

“Focus mode? Bro, this is MasterChef, not NASA.”

Iffah blinked once.

“…it still requires precision.”

Nathan gave a small nod.

“…she’s not wrong.”

Hasya stared at both.

“…I’m surrounded by serious food people.”

At the gate, Syarah leaned casually, watching them gather.

She smiled faintly.

“…can’t wait to taste your food.”

A pause.

“Good luck.”

Hasya raised a brow.

“Ma’am, no pressure, right?”

Syarah tilted her head slightly.

“…no pressure.”

Beat.

“…just judgment.”

Naufal laughed under his breath.

Iffah looked away slightly.

Nathan exhaled.

“…noted.”

On Wednesday, there was no English class at 2 Amanah.

Nazha had just finished teaching at 2 Ikhlas.

She stepped out of the classroom and stopped near Reina.

Reina stretched lightly.

“…2 Amanah must be fun tomorrow.”

Nazha glanced at her.

“Oh? You want to support your friend?”

A pause.

“…but is your schedule free? I mean, no teacher around 0700 to 0940?”

Reina pulled out her schedule and checked.

“Yup. We’re free.”

She tapped the screen once.

“It was supposed to be Mr Isaac’s Science class, but he’s away for a course.”

Asyera leaned in from the side.

“…we also want food.”

Reina blinked.

“…that’s not the reason I checked the schedule.”

Nazha smiled faintly.

“…but it is the motivation, isn’t it?”

Asyera didn’t deny it.

“…partially.”

As usual, Nazha informed Syarah that 2 Ikhlas would be joining as spectators.

Syarah looked up from her desk, fingers pausing over the timetable sheets.

“…Ikhlas class?” she repeated.

Nazha nodded.

“They’re free during that slot. No Science lesson—Mr Isaac is away for a course.”

Syarah leaned back slightly in her chair, processing for a moment.

“…so you’re extending this beyond your own class now.”

A faint smile formed.

She reached for the schedule and scanned it once more.

“No objections from my side,” she said calmly.

A pause.

“…but make sure crowd control is not turned into crowd chaos.”

Her gaze lifted to Nazha.

“You’re building something bigger than a class activity.”

Nazha didn’t deny it.

Just smiled.

“…I’m just letting them experience it.”

Syarah closed the file gently.

“…that’s exactly why I’m watching it closely.”

Nazha left Syarah’s room still smiling.

Her phone lit up almost immediately.

She didn’t even need to check twice before opening Faizal’s chat.

“Sir, Ikhlas class is officially joining as spectators 😌”

A few seconds passed.

A typing bubble appeared.

Faizal replied:

Another message followed.

“And make sure your instructions are shorter than your enthusiasm.”

Nazha snorted softly.

“…noted.”

Just as she was about to reply—

A new call popped up.

Video Call: Faizal

She picked up.

Faizal appeared on screen, leaning slightly back, looking like he was still in JPNS break mode.

“…you’re enjoying this too much,” he said immediately.

Nazha grinned.

“Am I?”

Before Faizal could continue—

Another face slid into frame.

Megat.

He had clearly joined mid-call.

But the moment he saw Nazha—

His expression softened slightly.

Eyes brightened.

“…you look confident,” he said.

A small pause.

“…good.”

Nazha blinked.

“Sir Megat? You’re in the call?”

Megat gave a faint smile.

“I was listening.”

Faizal sighed.

“…he just likes supervising people’s chaos from a distance.”

Megat ignored him.

His gaze stayed on Nazha.

“…good luck for tomorrow.”

“…don’t overplan it. Let them show you what they are.”

Nazha nodded slowly.

“…yes, sir.”

Megat leaned back slightly.

Still watching.

Still amused.

“…this one will be interesting to observe.”

Then, quietly—

He smiled.

And stayed on the call just a little longer than necessary.

School had just ended.

Nathan’s group didn’t head home separately.

Instead—

They followed Iffah.

Her house wasn’t far.

And by the time they arrived, the atmosphere had already changed.

The gate creaked open.

Before Iffah could even speak—

A voice shouted from inside.

“Big sister Iffah has friends!!!”

Two younger siblings rushed out almost immediately.

Curious. Loud. Excited.

Iffah blinked.

“…you didn’t have to announce it like that.”

Nathan stepped in slightly behind her.

“…your house is… active,” he observed.

Hasya leaned closer to Naufal.

“…this feels like we’re the guests and they’re the committee.”

Naufal chuckled.

“Technically… yes.”

Inside—

The kitchen was already claimed.

Iffah’s siblings stood near the counter like they owned the place.

One of them pointed at Nathan.

“…you’re the chef?”

Nathan paused.

“…I cook.”

A nod.

Approval granted.

Hasya muttered.

“…this is not how peer review works.”

Iffah exhaled softly.

“…just don’t break anything.”

From the living room—

Another small voice called out.

“…can we taste first??”

Iffah closed her eyes for a second.

“…we haven’t even started.”

Nathan, however, was already scanning the kitchen.

Not overwhelmed.

Interested.

“…this setup is workable,” he said quietly.

Iffah looked at him.

“…you’re serious right now?”

Nathan nodded.

“…always.”

Hasya leaned on the counter.

“…I think we accidentally joined a family internship program.”

And for the first time—

Iffah didn’t correct anyone.

She just watched.

Something about this felt different.

Not school.

Not practice.

Something closer to understanding.

Nathan placed the recipe on the counter—Kenshin Inferno edition.

“We’re going to cook… Golden Shrimp Balls!”

Excitement rippled through the group.

Iffah didn’t react.

She just read.

Then, quietly separated the ingredients:

• prawns
• garlic
• spring onion
• ginger
• egg
• cornstarch
• breadcrumbs
• seasoning
• oil

One by one.

No hesitation.

Hasya leaned in.

“…why does it look like she already understands this?”

Iffah didn’t answer.

Her hands were already moving.

Nathan noticed.

“…she’s structuring it.”

Iffah paused at the egg.

Then placed it beside the cornstarch.

“…binders,” she said softly.

Something settled in her expression.

Not confidence.

Clarity.

Naufal washed the prawns, removing the unwanted parts carefully.

Hasya handled the flour mixture, complaining lightly as she worked.

Nathan guided them like a head chef, calm and precise.

Iffah stayed near the side station, preparing the dipping sauce.

Measuring. Mixing. Adjusting.

At the counter, her younger siblings watched in silence.

They had never seen her like this before.

Not unsure.

Not hesitant.

Just… in control.

Something shifted quietly in Iffah.

Not loud confidence.

Just a steadier feeling in her chest.

They were following her.

Trusting her.

And that was enough.

What they didn’t know—

Iffah had studied the recipe the night before.

Not from Kenshin Inferno.

But carefully, step by step, on her own.

Nathan chose the dish intentionally.

Something that couldn’t be done alone required coordination and revealed people through work.

And slowly—

It was doing exactly that.

The Golden Shrimp Balls were done.

Steam rose gently from the plate as it was placed on the table.

Iffah’s younger siblings leaned in immediately.

Eyes wide. Alert. Serious.

“…we are judging this properly,” one of them said.

Hasya crossed her arms.

“…why do I feel like we accidentally invited Gordon Ramsay’s younger cousins?”

Naufal laughed under his breath.

“…they look more intense than actual judges.”

Nathan stayed quiet, observing their reactions.

“…let them taste first,” he said simply.

The kids picked up the first bite.

Hasya tilted her head.

“…okay if they start writing scorecards, I’m leaving.”

Iffah didn’t move.

Just watched.

Waiting.

And for the first time—

She wasn’t the one being judged.

Her younger brother took one of the shrimp balls and dipped it into the garlic sauce.

He bit in.

Silence.

Then his eyes widened.

“…this is so good.”

And just like that—

The rest of the kids followed.

Within seconds, the table turned into chaos.

“…I want more!”
“Why is it crispy but soft??”
“MAKE THIS AGAIN!”

Hasya froze.

“…okay. They’ve entered heaven.”

Nathan exhaled slowly, satisfied.

Iffah glanced at the sauce.

A small detail only she knew—

a squeeze of lime added at the final moment.

Just enough to lift everything.

She lowered her gaze slightly.

…and smiled.

At the same time, at the apartment, Nazha wrote her lesson plan for tomorrow.

A little different this time.

A food review lesson—

but expanded.

Not individual writing.

Not simple guided questions.

A multi-layered MasterChef evaluation system.

Stations.

Rotation.

Role-based feedback.

One group cook.
One group observes.
One group evaluates language use.

Then they switch.

Speaking, writing, and peer review—

all inside the same flow.

Nazha paused for a moment.

“…this is bigger than I planned.”

She glanced at Faizal’s message in her mind.

“Don’t overcomplicate. Let them show you what they are.”

She exhaled softly.

“…perhaps… just listen to my mentor.”

She underlined the final instruction once.

At The Sea Hotel, Faizal paused mid-note.

A faint feeling he couldn’t explain settled in.

“…she’s refining it,” he murmured.

Megat patted his back.

“Don’t worry. She knows who she was.”

Faizal raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know her so well?”

Megat froze for a beat.

“…well.”

He looked away slightly.

“…let’s just say I’ve seen that pattern before.”

Faizal squinted.

“…that is not an answer.”

Megat gave a small, controlled smile.

“…it’s enough for now.”

At the apartment, Nazha underlined her final line.

At The Sea Hotel, Faizal stayed silent, still unconvinced.

And in 2 Amanah, Hasya was already noticing something else.