Chapter 0151
Abby

The restaurant has long since closed, but the aroma of sauteed onions and garlic still lingers in the air.

The sound of sizzling oil on the stove and the faint melody of a song that I don’t like wafting from a

speaker in the corner mix together to create a tense symphony that I absolutely don’t need to be

hearing right now.

I’m stressed, to say the least. Really stressed.

John stands next to me, his eyes focused as he skillfully dices tomatoes. His posture is rigid, the

tension between us as palpable as the texture of the dough I’m kneading for our homemade pasta.

“How’s the dough coming along?” he asks, throwing a quick glance my way.

“It’s fine. Just needs a bit more kneading,” I reply, my palms pushing and folding as I get lost in the

repetitive motion.

John grunts in acknowledgment and moves on to chop basil. There’s an air of seriousness around him,

an unwavering concentration that should make me feel reassured.

And yet, it doesn’t.

hyper-aware of the disconnect, the invisible

from different recipes,

pass me the olive

fingers brushing for a moment, but there’s none

to feel when Karl and I worked side by

this, but with Karl, it was natural to

together. I like John and he’s a good cook, but we just don’t

chemistry in the kitchen. What should feel

looking at the array

think a touch of paprika

lip. “The recipe

throw it off.”

the boat, but in reality, I’m thinking to myself:

John? Are you crazy?”

furrowed. “We’re not following the recipe to the letter, are we? I thought

point was to make it our

shouldn’t mean ruining the integrity of

than I

down the paprika and takes a deep breath, visibly trying to rein in his frustration.

sous chef for this competition. If you don’t trust my judgment, then

here?”

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