Abby The ambiance of the restaurant after hours is one of muted stillness, a stark contrast to its bustling daytime persona. I absolutely cherish these moments, where the world seems to fade, and it’s just me and my culinary creations. Tonight, it’s not about a new dish or preparation for t
“Karl!” I shriek, both shocked and amused. I look at him, my expression feigned outrage, but the giggles escaping my lips betray me. “You’ll pay for that.” His laughter fills the room, a deep, infectious sound. “Bring it on, chef.” Without another word, I scoop up a generous handful of flour a
The restaurant buzzes with an energy that I haven’t felt in a long while. Streamers hang from the ceiling, twinkling fairy lights wrap around the bar, and the laughter of friends and colleagues fills the air. Tonight is more than just another party; it’s a celebration of someone I hold dear, and I
“Actually, I think everyone should be in the picture,” I start to say, not wanting Karl to feel left out. After all, he’s a part of the team, part of this night. And he’s helped me immensely with the preparations. Karl meets my eyes, and it’s as if he reads my thoughts. His face softens, and he pu
The city’s nocturnal pulse is like a second heartbeat, a comforting undercurrent as I make my way toward the subway. Tonight was something else. A blend of euphoria, sprinkled with an indescribable tension—thanks to Karl’s abrupt departure. I’m not sure why he left, or really even when he left.
As the stop comes up, I stand abruptly, shoving the man away. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growls. “Getting out of here,” I say, gathering my belongings as the train screeches to a halt at the next station. The doors slide open, and I make my exit, not looking back, even when he yells so
I’m pacing my living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, lost in my thoughts. The night has been a cocktail of emotions—high spirits at the party, laughter with Abby… And then, of course, there was the palpable tension with Chloe. I thought I had managed to keep my feelings under wraps, maintain the
“Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be there.” I hang up, feeling the weight of my double life—the life I left behind and the one I’m struggling to build. It’s a constant juggling act, and sometimes I drop the ball. As if on cue, my phone buzzes again, pulling me back to the present. This ti