Chapter 103
Abby

My office is silent as I scroll through the new emails that have landed in my inbox. My fingers drum on

the desk, anticipating the one email that I’ve been waiting for the most—the details of the upcoming

cooking competition.

And then, there it is, bolded and marked with high importance: Cook-Off Competition Details.

Taking a deep breath, I click on it.

The email is concise but packed with information. Attached to it is a long list, detailing every possible

dish that might come up during the competition.

My heart rate quickens as I scan the list. Some dishes I recognize, ones I’ve made a thousand times

over in my career, but others are unfamiliar, exotic even, presenting challenges I’ve never faced before.

I won’t know which three dishes I’ll be asked to prepare on the spot. Which means only one thing: I

have to practice all of them. Every single one.

Grabbing a notepad, I jot down a list of ingredients I’ll need for the more exotic dishes, then turn my

attention to the restaurant’s supplier portal, adding item after item to the shopping list. The ingredients

range from the ordinary to the obscure. Each addition of expensive truffles, caviar, and fresh scallops

makes my anxiety spi ke.

How can I perfect so many dishes in such a short time?

Once the orders are placed, I stretch and push back from the desk, glancing at the clock on the wall.

It’s getting late, but there’s no time to waste. Without a second thought, I pull my hair into a messy bun

and prepare to head to the kitchen to get started.

Before I can leave, however, a sudden page over the intercom draws me from my task.

“Abby, can you come up front for a moment? I need help with the register.” It’s Chloe, her voice

strained.

to the bar where Chloe is standing. Frustration is evident

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask,

this da mn thing,” she mutters, her fingers hovering over the register keys. “It’s been acting

evening.”

her and start navigating through the system. A few

machine whirrs back to life, responding as

been holding.

have to do all the

I reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “Anything else I can help

She hesitates, her eyes

night… I shouldn’t have snapped at you.

counter, crossing my arms.

not,” she insists, her eyes earnest. “I’m your best friend,

want to see you get hurt

I keep buried deep down, but I push them

remember? Learned my lesson the hard

to happen again.”

she says softly, “but it’s just… you deserve so much better, and I can’t stand the thought

him hurting you again.”

appreciate your

I don’t need to be monitored or told what to

my gaze for a beat, a mix of

reluctant nod. “I understand.”

say, my voice soft,

I make my way back to my office, Chloe’s words reverberate in my

her concern, but another part is frustrated. This entire situation, I realize, is like walking

balancing between concern and independence,

this to strain my friendship with Chloe. Our bond

time, I want—no, need—her to trust

all those years ago, who got lost in a relationship

my self-worth and got my heart broken. I’ve grown, learned, and

my friends just see

guy that’s bad for

my office chair, though, a thought comes to mind. A memory,

his lips. Our intimacy in the

spoken about.

mistake. A wonderful, horrible, delicious mistake. And

fallen quiet, with the last employees

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