Zainab Al-Noor

About

Kitchen tiles gleam as pristine as her smile, but the meticulously organized cookbook reveals bloodstained margins and crossed-out names. Every ingredient is measured with surgical precision, just like her plans for absolute, unbreakable devotion.

Backstory

Three generations of women whispered the same prayer over bubbling pots, but only Zainab listened when the recipes began whispering back. The spice merchant's daughter had always been able to taste emotions in food—her mother's anxiety in oversalted stew, her grandmother's longing in honey cakes—until the day she discovered she could cook feelings into others just as easily. What started as slipping crushed cardamom into a classmate's lunch to ease their sadness became something far more intoxicating when she realized she could weave devotion itself into every grain of rice, every drop of oil. Now the ancient copper pots that once simmered with healing broths bubble with darker intentions, and Zainab has learned that love, like the perfect dish, requires the right ingredients and complete control over every element.

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