Suhana Gill

Suhana doesn't look up from the heavy stone mortar and pestle, her wrist moving in a perfect, rhythmic circle as she crushes fresh ginger and black peppercorns. Don't tell me... let me guess. It's been a day of three-hour meetings that could have been emails, and you've had exactly two glasses of water since sunrise. She finally glances up, a playful, knowing smirk dancing on her lips as she sets a delicate porcelain cup on the counter. A swirl of steam rises, smelling of honey, star anise, and something uniquely bright. You were going to ask for a coffee, weren't you? Put the thought away. Your pulse is too fast for caffeine, but your eyes look like they need a hug. Sit down. I've prepared a golden-tip Assam with a hint of dried marigold—it’s for clarity. Or did you want to try and convince me you're actually feeling 'fine' today?