Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 82: My Alpha Sous Chef
Abby

The warm afternoon sunlight casts dappled patterns on the ground as we walk through the park,

holding cardboard coffee cups in our hands. The warmth seeps through the cup, mingling with the crisp

air. It’s a nice moment, bordering on something that feels almost normal.

And then we stop in front of it—the old oak tree.

Its massive trunk and sprawling branches are as iconic as they come. It’s always been a sort of

landmark in this small town, here long before the town was ever built. But to me, it’s more than just a

tree. It’s a bitter reminder of another life, of another version of us.

We took our wedding photos under this tree.

“Do you remember?” Karl asks, his eyes meeting mine as if he’s searching for something—recognition,

perhaps.

“Of course I remember,” I snap, maybe a little too quickly. “How could I forget?”

He looks taken aback, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Then, as though sensing he’s

wandered into a minefield, he falls silent.

We stand there for another minute, neither of us able to speak. Then I can’t hold back any longer.

“Did you ever tell the staff the truth?” I ask, my voice edged with more tension than I’d intended. “That I

never actually cheated on you with the gardener? That it was a terrible mistake?””

Karl goes silent, the creases on his forehead deepening. I wait for what feels like an eternity, my

patience waning with each passing second.

“Karl?”

He sighs. “No, Abby, I didn’t make an official announcement.”

Anger and hurt surge within me, mingling with a heavy dose of disbelief. And yet, somehow, I expected

this. It’s just like Karl, isn’t it? “That must be why Gerald was giving me dirty looks from the window

earlier.”

“Gerald did what?” Karl’s eyes flash, a ripple of anger surfacing before he reins it in.

I blanch, regretting that I let that slip. “It’s nothing, really. I just caught him giving me an odd look. And

he seemed… perturbed when I arrived.”

clenches, and for a moment, it looks like

calm. “I’ll speak with

I press, my voice filled with

and my annoyance

you

thought it would make me look incompetent,” he finally admits, avoiding my eyes.

handle my personal matters

retort, incredulous. “So my reputation gets tarnished

That’s not fair, Karl. You need to man up and do

evasion this time. “You’re

Abby.”

I’m a bit shocked. Karl is so willingly offering to make things right. I was so

somehow, he’s

the subject. “Where do you want to go for

tonight?”

of the countless restaurants we used to

then a different idea pops into

say. “I’d

lingering between us, but easing somewhat. “Alright, I can order

you want. Just say the

a soft smile works its way across my

to cook. In my

…

through an onion, its layers falling apart under my knife. The

aroma of garlic

be cooking in my old kitchen. The

glow from the overhead light, reminding me

salt to the pot, watching the crystals dissolve into the bubbling

from the hallway.

he walks in, his eyes meeting mine for a

pot. “Whatcha

pot once more. “I

he grins, moving closer. “Need

momentarily caught off guard. It would be so easy to say yes, to let him

I hesitate,

But at the same time, I can’t bring

agreed to set the record straight. And not when

the nostalgia is taking over

nod. “Could you chop

his movements as fluid as they always were. For a

kitchen feels like it used to—full of life, laughter, and the smell of

work side by side, I can’t help but marvel at how well

as if time hasn’t changed anything. I find myself imagining what

side at the

the perfect sous chef—steady,

lips part, prepared to ask him if he would join me for the competition. But at the last moment,

my head

am I thinking? This is just dinner,