Chapter 0286


    Abby


    Six years ago.


    The stainless steel countertops gleamed under the harsh lighting of the culinary school kitchen as I


    ted my dish with trembling hands. The scent of my creation, a painstaking fusion of herbs and


    spices, wafted tantalizingly through the air—but I had no appetite.


    My gaze flickered across the room,nding on the stern face of Professor Hawthorne, who punctuated


    the silence with the scribbles on his notepad and the clicking of his shoes on the tile floor.


    “Time,” he called out, his voice cutting through the flurry of student activity.


    The room went still as Professor Hawthorne began his rounds. His critiques were always light, allowing


    plenty of room for improvement. As he made his way past each station, the students let out sighs of


    relief at his gentle encouragement.


    And yet, he was never like that with me.


    “Overcooked,” he pronounced after no more than a nibble of my carefully crafted dish. “And the


    bnce of vors is off. This is a cooking ss, not an exercise in mediocrity, Abby.”


    I felt my cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment as I watched him jot down notes. The


    silence that followed his departure from my station felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, and


    although I wanted nothing more than to retort, it was as if my voice was stolen from me.


    He moved on, praising Jackson’s seared salmon, gushing over Sophia’s perfect risotto. Their sess


    stories felt like stabs to my gut. Why was he always criticizing me so heavily when everyone else


    received praise?


    The bell rang. As the other students left, chatting andughing happily over their passing grades, I


    lingered, my gaze locked on the dish that had so thoroughly failed to impress. I got a C-. Barely


    passing. To me, it might as well have been a colossal failure.


    Once I was finally alone in the hallway, I sank to the floor, my back against the cool tile wall beneath the


    stairwell.


    “Dammit,” I murmured, blinking away the tears that threatened toe. “Another horrible grade.” I


    crumpled up my results and tossed them into a nearby trash can.


    That was exactly where he found me, the one person who caused all of this. His shadow fell over me


    like an eclipse.


    “Miss Abby, what seems to be the problem?” Professor Hawthorne''s voice was devoid of its usual


    sharpness, but I couldn’t look at him.


    I red up through watery eyes, my voiceing out sharper than I intended.


    “What do you think the problem is? You nearly failed me, again! Even when I pour my soul into my


    cooking, it’s like you hate everything I do. You never critique the others like you critique me!”


    Even I was shocked by my own words. It was as if they tumbled out all at once, like they couldn’t be


    contained any longer.


    His words left me reeling. He had never hinted at believing in me, not once.


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    “Potential?” I echoed, disbeliefcing my voice. “Then why do I feel like you’re trying to sabotage me?”


    Hawthorne sighed, a rare show of kindness in his stern demeanor. “I push you because I see what you


    could be, not what you are. I won’t apologize for that.” New ch?pter avаble o? Dr?мanоvеls.cоm


    “Fine. I’ll show you potential.”