Beneath the Surface

Sweet Indulgence had always been my sanctuary—a place where the aroma of freshly baked pastries and the soft hum of conversation drowned out the noise of the outside world. But lately, even the café's comforting walls couldn't shield me from the storm brewing inside my head. Tyler and Shawn were both becoming fixtures in my life, each pulling me in different directions. Their offers lingered unanswered, like fragile pastries on the edge of collapse.

Sarah, my head pastry chef, worked with a focus I envied. She was perfecting her entry for the upcoming pastry competition—a pistachio and raspberry mille-feuille adorned with delicate gold leaf. Watching her, I marveled at her ability to tune out everything but her craft, while my own thoughts refused to settle.

"What do you think?" Sarah asked, her voice steady despite the hint of nerves in her eyes.

I leaned closer, admiring the vibrant layers of pastry and filling. "It's stunning," I said sincerely. "The judges won't be able to resist it."

Her smile carried a flicker of relief. "Let's hope so."

The competition day arrived with palpable excitement. Sweet Indulgence had poured its heart into this moment, and we all felt it. Closing the café early, we rallied behind Sarah as we headed to the grand venue. The room buzzed with eager competitors, the air thick with the tantalizing aroma of butter, sugar, and ambition.

Sarah's station was pristine, every tool and ingredient meticulously arranged. As we helped her set up, I noticed her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the piping bag. "You've got this," I said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Trust yourself. You're amazing."

Her wide, vulnerable eyes met mine, and I knelt to her level, my tone gentle but firm. "Sarah, you're not just making a dessert; you're sharing a piece of yourself. Mistakes won't define you, but this passion you have? It will."

She nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Thank you, Ann. I needed that."

As the competition began, the room quieted except for the soft symphony of whisks, spatulas, and ovens coming to life. Sarah moved with renewed confidence, her hands steady as she layered the delicate pastry and piped the pistachio cream. I found myself lost in her artistry, the chaos in my mind briefly stilled.

A buzz in my pocket jolted me back to reality. Tyler's message lit up my screen:

Good luck today. Sweet Indulgence deserves to shine.

Before I could respond, another buzz followed—Shawn this time:

Wishing you and Sarah all the best. Let me know how it goes.

I stared at their words, the weight of their support stirring the same conflicting emotions I'd been wrestling with for weeks. Shaking my head, I slipped the phone back into my pocket. Today wasn't about me; it was about Sarah.

When the winners were announced, Sarah's name rang through the speakers, and for a heartbeat, time stood still. Then the room erupted into applause.

Tears streamed down Sarah's face as she turned to me, joy and disbelief shining in her eyes. "We did it, Ann. Sweet Indulgence did it."

"You did it," I corrected, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

Back at the café, the air buzzed with excitement. Sarah's victory wasn't just her own; it was a collective win that Sweet Indulgence wore like a badge of honor. Customers poured in, eager to taste the now-famous pistachio and raspberry mille-feuille, and the café hummed with celebratory energy.

As the crowd dwindled toward the evening, Sarah found me near the counter. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she pulled me aside.

"I couldn't have done this without you," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

I smiled, my chest tightening with pride. "Sarah, you earned this. You're an incredible chef, and now everyone knows it."

Her lips curled into a small, grateful smile, and she quickly wiped at her eyes.

Shawn approached with a bouquet in hand. "You've outdone yourself, Sarah," he said warmly. "This café has always been special, but today, you made it unforgettable."

"Thank you, Dr. Shawn," Sarah replied, her cheeks flushing with color.

Before the moment could settle, Tyler entered the scene, his commanding presence like a gravitational pull. He came to my side, his eyes fixed on me with that signature intensity. Without a word, he wrapped me in a hug, his touch gentle but firm, as though he was grounding me.

"This is a big win for Sweet Indulgence," he said softly. "You should be proud, Ann. You've built something truly remarkable."

I looked up at him, his warmth radiating like a quiet fire. But in his gaze lingered an unspoken tenderness that unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

Before I could respond, Sarah's voice broke through the tension. "Dr. Shawn," she called, her tone hesitant. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" Shawn looked at her, his expression curious but kind. "Of course. Lead the way." 

As they stepped outside, a flicker of unease tugged at my chest. I tried to shake it off, focusing instead on the laughter and chatter filling the café. But even as the celebration carried on, my mind wandered. 

Tyler stood close, his hand brushing the small of my back, anchoring me in the present. His touch was steady, but my thoughts were anything but. The gravitational pull I had always felt with him seemed to clash with another force—one that was quieter, steadier, and had been there all along.

When Sarah returned, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with an odd mixture of hope and nerves. She moved past me without a word, heading straight for the kitchen. 

"Sarah?" Elise called after her, concern evident in her voice. I followed, my chest tightening as I stepped into the kitchen. 

Sarah was crouched on the floor, her head buried in her hands. "Hey, sweetie, what's wrong?" I asked gently, kneeling beside her. 

"Did Shawn make you cry?" Elise asked, crouching next to me.

Sarah's flushed face and trembling hands betrayed her unease. "I told him how I feel," she admitted in a whisper. "And he turned me down. He said he has feelings for someone else."

My heart twisted. "Oh, Sarah…"

Sarah stood abruptly, brushing off her apron as though trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice brittle. "I just needed to say it. Now I know where I stand." 

We wrapped our arms around her in a comforting hug. "You're strong, Sarah," I whispered. We stepped away from the kitchen, Sarah started cleaning as crowd gradually dispersed and we began closing up for the night. 

Sarah, her face pale, approached me quietly. "I think I'm going to head home early. I'm not feeling well," she said softly, her voice strained. I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Sarah. You deserve to rest." 

She gave a small, grateful smile before walking out of the café, her steps unsteady as if the weight of the day had finally caught up with her.

As the café emptied, its usual warmth felt hollow. Sarah's absence lingered, and though the hum of Sweet Indulgence after hours often brought me peace, tonight it only echoed my unease.

Tyler approached me, his brow creased with quiet concern. "Are you okay?"

I forced a nod, though the weight in my chest betrayed me. "I'm fine. Just… processing everything."

His gaze softened, and he placed a steadying hand on my back. "Let me drop you off. I think you could use some space."

I hesitated, glancing at Elise, who stood near the door with John and Shawn. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes lingered on Shawn, who seemed lost in thought. Tyler gave Elise a polite nod. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said firmly, guiding me outside. 

The drive home was quiet, the city lights blurring into streaks as Tyler's car moved through the night. Finally, I broke the silence. "Shawn rejected Sarah… He said he has feelings for someone else."

Tyler's grip on the wheel tightened slightly. "I see," he murmured. "It seems his past still holds him."

"What do you mean?" I asked, curiosity pricking at the edge of my exhaustion.

Tyler exhaled, his gaze fixed on the road. "Shawn, Jasmine, and I grew up together. Our families were close, and for a while, it felt like the three of us were unbreakable." His voice softened, tinged with regret. "But life has a way of pulling people apart. Jasmine went to Paris for modelling, Shawn to the States for medicine, and I stayed here to build my business."

The car's interior felt heavier with his words, as though the past had seeped into the present.

"They tried to make it work," he continued. "Five years of long-distance love. But distance changes people. When Shawn flew to Paris to surprise her, he found her with someone else." Tyler's voice faltered, his jaw tightening. "It broke him. Two months later, Jasmine was gone—an accident. Shawn never got the closure he needed."

The air between us felt thick, the weight of his confession pressing down on me. "That must have been unbearable for him," I whispered, imagining the pain Shawn carried.

Tyler nodded, his voice gentler now. "It still is. He's holding onto the past, Ann. But we all have to let go eventually."

His words hung in the air as he pulled up to my apartment. 

"Thank you for telling me," I said, though my heart felt heavy with the burden of everything unsaid.

I got out of the car, but as I watched him drive away, the choices ahead loomed large. One wrong move, and everything—my café, my friendships, and my heart—could crumble.