The scent of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces filled the air, wrapping around Derek like a familiar embrace. The rhythmic clatter of knives against cutting boards, the sizzle of meat hitting the pan, the murmur of chefs shouting orders—it was chaos, but it was his kind of chaos.
Derek wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, his sharp, tired eyes scanning the bustling kitchen. Another dinner rush, another night of pushing his body past its limits. But that was fine. Work kept his mind occupied, kept the memories at bay.
It had been months since he left her. Months since he packed his things and walked away from an eight-year-long relationship that had drained every part of him. He had thought love was supposed to be a partnership, but all he had ever been was a shadow, a supporting character in someone else’s story. His ex had made sure of that.
Derek wasn’t naive. He knew he was still healing, still unlearning the weight of her words, still forcing himself to believe that love wasn’t supposed to feel like suffocation. But that was why he worked himself to the bone. If he kept busy, he wouldn’t have to think about the way her voice still lingered in his mind.
“Chef, we’re out of the house special again,” one of his line cooks called out, pulling Derek from his thoughts.
He exhaled sharply. “I’ll handle it. Keep the orders moving.”
As he worked, his hands moved instinctively, chopping, seasoning, plating—creating something that wasn’t just food, but an experience. Cooking was the one thing that had never failed him. It was the only place where he still felt in control.
By the time the rush began to slow, Derek finally leaned against the counter, rolling his sore shoulders. He needed a break. He needed air.
Stepping out of the back entrance, he tugged off his apron, letting the cold night breeze cool his overheated skin. He took a slow breath, staring at the dimly lit street ahead. He had built something good here. A restaurant people loved. A place that was his, built from the ground up without anyone else’s influence.
But something still felt…missing.
He scoffed at himself. What was he even saying? He didn’t have time for something to be missing. Love wasn’t something he could afford to chase, not when he had spent so long giving himself to someone who never looked back.
A vibration in his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. A message—from an unknown number.
Gwen: “I heard your restaurant is doing well. I hope you don’t think that means you’re better off without me.”
Derek clenched his jaw, gripping his phone tighter. Just when he thought he had escaped her, she always found a way to remind him that he once belonged to her.
His heart pounded in his ears, but he forced himself to put his phone away without replying.
He wasn’t that man anymore.
He wouldn’t be that man anymore.
With one last deep breath, he turned back toward the kitchen.
Tomorrow would be just another day. More work, more cooking, more distractions.
He had no idea that tomorrow would also be the day he met her.
The woman who would change everything.
