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.”

for a moment, it looks like he might explode. Then

calm. “I’ll speak

I press, my

and my annoyance flares

you clear

I thought it would make me look incompetent,” he finally admits,

my

“So my reputation gets tarnished because

need

mine without evasion this time. “You’re right.

Abby.”

Karl is so willingly offering to make things right. I

he’s exceeding

anything else, he changes the subject. “Where do you want

tonight?”

the countless restaurants we

But then a different idea pops into

tired, actually,” I say. “I’d rather

still lingering between us, but easing somewhat.

you want. Just

as a soft smile works its

want to cook. In my

…

apart under my knife. The

the aroma of

in my

glow from the overhead light, reminding me of old days.

to the pot, watching the crystals dissolve into

from the hallway.

here,” Karl says as he walks in, his eyes meeting mine for

pot.

the pot once more. “I remember it was one of

moving closer. “Need any

be so easy

role he once played so perfectly. But I hesitate, unsure. I’m still upset

at the same time, I can’t

willingly agreed to set the record straight. And not when we’re in

the nostalgia is

“Could you chop those mushrooms

slicing, his movements as fluid

it used to—full of life, laughter, and the

help but marvel

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

at

perfect sous chef—steady, reliable,

ask him if he would join me for the competition. But at the

my head

am I thinking? This is just dinner,