The grand hall of Le Cordon Bleu Paris gleamed with golden chandeliers and the quiet buzz of hundreds of guests.
Cameras flashed, chefs in crisp white coats moved with precision, and the smell of sugar, spice, and ambition filled the air.
Maya took a deep breath behind the stage curtain, her heart thudding wildly.
"This is it," she whispered to herself. "The moment I've waited for."
Her mentor, Chef Laurent, smiled beside her. "You've got this, Sharma. Remember, cooking isn't just about taste — it's about heart. And yours beats louder than anyone's."
Maya smiled nervously. "Let's hope the judges taste that too."
---
Meanwhile, in London…
Adrian sat in his office, staring at the live stream on his laptop.
Even in grainy pixels, she looked stunning — confident, radiant, alive.
He leaned back, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Go show them, Chef."
---Back in Paris, the first round began.
Maya's hands moved like music — slicing, stirring, plating. The audience whispered, impressed by her focus.
Then — a familiar voice broke her rhythm.
"Well, if it isn't Maya Sharma."
She froze, turning to see Daniel Moretti, a former co-worker from her culinary internship in Italy — and her biggest critic.
He smirked, adjusting his apron. "Didn't expect to see you here. Still cooking for sympathy, I see?"
Maya straightened. "Still talking instead of cooking, I see."
Gasps from nearby contestants.
Daniel's grin faded. "You've got fire, Sharma. Let's see if you've got flavor too."Hours later, judges circled the tables. Maya's dish — Cardamom-infused rose cake with pistachio cream — shimmered like a jewel.
The head judge took a bite, closed his eyes, and smiled. "Delicate. Confident. A flavor that lingers."
Applause erupted.
Maya's knees nearly gave out. She bowed slightly, tears stinging her eyes.
Back in London, Adrian punched the air, whispering, "That's my girl."
---
But just as Maya walked off the stage, she saw a familiar face in the crowd.
Veronica.
Standing beside one of the sponsors, perfectly dressed, smiling coldly.
Maya's smile faded.
What was she doing here?
Before she could react, Veronica walked over. "Congratulations, Miss Sharma. Impressive. You've come a long way from being just a café girl, haven't you?"
Maya forced a polite smile. "And you've come a long way from being in other people's business."
Veronica leaned closer, voice low. "Adrian deserves better than someone who hides behind an apron."
The words cut deep, but Maya didn't show it. She lifted her chin, calm and composed. "Funny. I thought love didn't need your permission."
Veronica's eyes flashed, but before she could respond, the host called out:
> "Top five finalists — Maya Sharma from India!"The crowd cheered. Maya blinked back tears.
She did it.
---
That night, Maya sat by the Seine, trophy in her lap, phone in hand.
She typed:
> "We made it, Adrian. I wish you were here."
Within seconds, his reply came:
> "Always am, even when miles away."
She smiled through tears, whispering to the night,
> "Then maybe distance isn't that far after all."