Chapter 65
The sun streamed through the curtains, casting a bright light stream of light directly over my eyes.
The events ofst night felt like a distant dream that I had been tugged away from. The dinner with
Timothy, the confrontation with Linda, it was all a mixture of fear and joy.
As I rolled out of bed and prepared for the day ahead, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a weight had
been lifted from my shoulders. With a newfound sense of optimism, I made my way to the kitchen to
start my morning routine. As I prepared a cup of coffee, I switched on the local news and listened
absently to the forecast for the day.
As I sipped my coffee and watched the morning news, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of
vindication.
The headlines were no longer dominated by the scandal that had threatened to consume us.
Instead, they focused on other stories, other figures, and a sense of relief washed over me.
Perhaps, just perhaps, we were on the brink of reiming a sense of normalcy.
My thoughts drifted to Timothy, wondering how he was faririg amidst the sudden. shift in the vast
current that is public opinion.
With newfound determination, I decided to take a step that I had been contemting for some time.
It was a simple gesture, one that held a deeper meaning. I was going to bake a cake for Timothy.
The soft glow of the kitchen light cast a warm ambiance as I stood before the countertop, surveying
the array of ingredients thaty before me. Baking had never been my forte, but the determination
to create something special for Timothy spurred me on. The events of the past few weeks had been
a whirlwind, and in the midst of the chaos, this small act of baking felt like a way to ground myself.
I took a deep breath and reached for the mixing bowl, my fingers wrapping around. the cool handle.
My heart raced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Aria had provided me with a simple
recipe for a berry and vani cake, assuring me that it was foolproof. With the recipe printed out and
ingredients carefully measured, I was ready to embark on this culinary adventure.
The rhythmic sound of the electric mixer filled the air as Ibined the flour,
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sugar, and other ingredients. Despite myck of experience, I found a strange sense offort in
the repetitive motions. The kitchen was awash with the scent of vani, an enticing sweetness.
As the batter took shape, I gently piled in the berries, watching as the vibrant colors swirled and
mingled. There was a certain magic in the process, at transformation that mirrored the shifts and
changes that had urred in my own.
life.
With the batter poured into the baking pan, I carefully ced it in the preheated oven. The
anticipation bubbled within me as I set the timer and leaned against the counter, watching through
the oven door as the cake began to rise and take on a golden hue. It was a sight to behold.
Time seemed to stretch as I waited, my thoughts drifting to Timothy. The cake was a small gesture,
but it held a deeper significance. It was a symbol of celebration and support, a reminder that he was
not alone. I feltfortable being that support.
And yet, doubts gnawed at the edges of my mind. What if the cake turned out to be a disaster? I’ve
seen cakes dete just with a light touch.
Finally, the timer chimed, pulling me from my thoughts. I carefully removed the cake from the oven,
a sense of trepidation washing over me as I examined the finished product. To my surprise, the
cake looked far better than I had expected. The golden crust was tinged with a hint of pink from the
berries, and the aroma that wafted from it was undeniably inviting.
As I allowed the cake to cool, I turned my attention to the frosting. Aria had assured me that a
simple vani buttercream would do the trick, and armed with determination, I set about whipping
butter and sugar into a creamy consistency.
With the cake cooled and the frosting prepared, it was time to assemble the final. masterpiece. My
hands trembled as I carefully spread a generousyer of frosting over the cake, smoothing it with a
spat. The cake began to take on a more polished appearance, the imperfections of my earlier
baking attempts masked by the smooth frosting.
As I stood back to admire my handiwork, a sense of pride emerged. The cake wast far from perfect,
but it held a sense of charm that was uniquely its own. The vibrant berries peeking through the
frosting added a touch of whimsy, and despite my fears, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of
satisfaction.
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Later that afternoon, with the freshly baked cake carefully cradled in my hands, I made my way to
Timothy’s apartment. My heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness, eager to see his
reaction. A familiar sense of apprehension returned.
What if he didn’t like the cake? What if he found it unappealing or unappetizing?
With a steadying breath, I raised my hand and knocked on the door.
The seconds ticked by, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for a response. Momentster,
the door swung open. Instead of Timothy’s familiar face, it was the kind, round face of an older
woman in a blue maid uniform.
I tried not to let my mind wander to the possibility of her being Timothy’s next conquest as she
greeted me with a warm smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss Evie,” she said kindly. “Mr. Timothy is in the middle of a meeting right now. Is
there something I can assist you with?”
She knew who I was?!?
I couldn’t mask my disappointment quick enough, but I managed to muster a small smile. “I baked a
cake for Timothy. I wanted to give it to him personally, but since he’s busy, hopefully you wouldn’t
mind giving it to him?”
The maid’s eyes twinkled with understanding. “That’s very thoughtful of you! I’ll make sure he gets
it.”
As I handed over the cake, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. While I had hoped to see
Timothy’s reaction firsthand, I knew that my gesture would still reach him in some way.
I stepped through the door off my apartment, the weight of the cake no longer in my arms. Despite
the sense of aplishment that came from baking and delivering it to Timothy’s apartment, a
lingering sense of anxiety gnawed at me.
Had he liked it? Did he think it was too amateurish? I couldn’t help but second- guess my decision
to leave it with the maid.
I shook off my doubts and headed to the kitchen, suddenly feeling the emptiness of only a morning
coffee in my stomach. As I entered, I found Aria and Lucas bustling about, their voices mingling with
the sounds of pots and pans ttering.
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“Hey,” I greeted, my voice carrying a hint of unease.
her face.”
Aria turned to me, a grin lighting up you’re just in time! We’re making meatball subs.”
I offered a weak smile, my mind still preupied with thoughts of the cake. “That sounds great.”
Lucas joined Aria in the kitchen, his warm smile a wee sight. “How’s everything going? We saw
all the cake supplies.”
I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Oh, I made Timothy a cake. He wasn’t home though,
so I left it with his maid.”
Text ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.
Aria’s brows furrowed in concern. “Is everything okay? You seem a bit… off.”
I sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I don’t know. I guess I just can’t shake the feeling that
maybe he won’t like it, or worse, think it’s ugly.”
Lucas chuckled, his voice reassuring. “Evie, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture. Besides, it’s the
thought that counts.”
Aria nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And you made an effort to show your support. That’s what
matters.”
Their words were a balm to mys, and I
felt a slight weight lifting from.
shoulders. It was true the cake.
the cake was a symbol of my solidarity with Timothy, a
–
way to let him know that he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t about the appearance or taste of the cake,
although I wished those could’ve been perfected.
“You’re right,” I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I guess. I’m just
overthinking things.”
Lucas patted my shoulder, his grin infectious. “Don’t sweat it. Now, why don’t you help us out,
Master Chef?”
As I helped them finish making the subs, I found myself feeling more at ease. Hearing Lucas detail
the goofy prank he’d pulled at work helped drag me out of my anxiety at the moment
After lunch, as we lingered around the table, Aria’s eyes suddenly lit up
with an idea. “You know what else would be a great way to show your support for Timothy?”
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I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”
Aria leaned forward, excitement radiating from her. “You shoulde to his next hockey game!”
I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Come to his hockey game? Are you sure
that’s a good idea?”
Aria nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! It’s the perfect way to show that you’re there for him. Plus, he’s
been working so hard, and it would mean a lot to have you in the stands cheering him on.”
Lucas chimed in, his expression supportive. “Aria’s right. You’ve already marked your territory on
each other, might as well make it official!”
“Gross!” Aria gagged, nudging him in the arm as he cackled.
The idea was both exhrating and nerve–wracking. The thought of being present at one of
Timothy’s hockey games was exciting. It was a way to publicly show my support, a gesture that
would transcend any doubts or fears that lingered.
I considered their words, a sense of confidence building within me. “You know what? You’re both
right. I think it’s time to step out of myfort zone.”
Aria and Lucas exchanged triumphant nces, their smiles infectious. “That’s the spirit!” Lucas
cheered.
Certainly, but I’d need more than spirit to process my feelings for Timothy.
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