Abby

The stage lights feel even more blinding now from the tears in my eyes. A

makeup artist darts around, dabbing my face with powder to cover the streaks

from crying. In more ways than one, I’m glad this hell is almost over; right now,

I’m just looking forward to getting this damn makeup off.

Finally, the director counts down from three, and it feels as though we’ve done

this a million times before. The crowd cheers, the music plays, the announcer

struts across the stage. And me? I’m standing here like a statue, my smile just

as fake as my manicured eyelashes.

Enter title…

Daniel stands next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and I can feel the hatred

emanating off of him. He stands tall and proud, the perfect picture of arrogance.

He doesn’t say a word to me, because he doesn’t need to. He already said

everything he needed to say earlier. He got his digs in, made his sharp words

stab me to my core. There’s no point now.

I can sense the satisfaction coursing through his veins as he stands beside me,

the realization that he won—not just in the competition, but in life—washing over

both of us. In just a few minutes, he’ll get exactly what he wants. Not only a

trophy, but to beat a woman down to nothing.

The announcer turns to Daniel first, his voice echoing across the studio. “Daniel,

you’ve shown immense skill throughout this competition. As we come to a close,

how are you feeling about your performance?”

Daniel’s lips twist into a smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching his

eyes.

skipping a beat. “The

just a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly,

at me. “He will be

and the gleam in his eye is sharp, almost

creeps up into my cheeks as the crowd

meeting mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite

competition. Tell us, what has this

gaze lifts to the audience, to the sea

my name now thanks to

hole

in the third row with

wide and bright as ever, and she still holds

her tiny hand, a grin spread

feel the lump in my throat, but I push

I’m here, even

I’m here for her.

start, my voice

chef

to have been here. To show that we—” I pause,

“—that I can stand toe to toe with the

thick. “And maybe, just

here will inspire others. That future female chefs

sure our skills—and our voices—are not only recognized,

also respected.”

crowd, a

the sound of anticipation as everyone waits for

results.

then cuts through the

is…” His eyes flick to the judges as he pulls

of

breath catches. Logan’s eyes lock onto

smile, doesn’t even blink. Instead, his

my world seems to tilt for what feels like the

my champion, now looks on with a cool

briefest of

her head inclining toward me

trick of

are trembling. I can’t look at

find the little girl in the crowd,

strength from her innocence,

The pause hangs for what

drawing it out

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