THE kitchen smelled of garlic, herbs, and something warm simmering in the pot. The air was thick with steam and the occasional sizzle of oil. Xaniyah stood by the chopping board, dicing carrots into even rounds while Dimitra stirred something inside a deep pan on the stove.

“Don’t slice them too thick,” Dimitra said, glancing over her shoulder. “They won’t cook through in time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Xaniyah replied, adjusting her grip on the knife.

Just then, the heavy front ...