The Global Culinary Gala preparations were in full swing.
Paris had turned golden under early morning sunlight, and the air buzzed with excitement.
Chefs from across the world filled Adrian's restaurant — knives flashing, laughter echoing, and recipes exchanged in half a dozen languages.
In the middle of all this, Maya and Max stood side by side, planning their presentation dish — a rare fusion of chocolate and cherry blossom glaze.
"Try the flavor with a hint of rosewater," Max suggested, gently pushing a bowl toward her.
Maya smiled. "You're not just a professor, are you?"
Max laughed softly. "Teaching is easier. Chefs like you are the real art."
Their conversation flowed naturally — like two artists speaking the same language.
But just a few feet away, Adrian stood watching.His jaw tightened.
Every laugh between them felt like a small cut he didn't know how to stop.
---
Later that afternoon, Adrian called for a meeting.
He spoke to the team, his tone all business — sharp, calm, precise.
But his gaze occasionally drifted toward Maya, who stood beside Max, taking notes.
When the meeting ended, Lila approached him, smirking.
"So, are you planning to tell her you're jealous, or should I?"
Adrian gave her a look. "I'm not jealous."
"Of course," Lila teased, "and I'm not addicted to coffee."
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "She's just… working with him. That's all."
But even as he said it, his heart refused to believe it.That evening, Maya walked into the tasting room with a tray of desserts.
Adrian was already there, alone.
She hesitated. "Everyone's gone home. I thought you—"
"Couldn't sleep," he interrupted softly. "Needed something sweet."
Maya smiled faintly. "You always did."
She set the plate down, and their fingers brushed again — that same quiet electric spark.
He looked at her — really looked.
"Does he make you smile like this too?"
Her breath caught. "What?"
Adrian's voice dropped lower. "Max."
The name lingered in the air between them like smoke.
Maya blinked, surprised by the sudden edge in his tone.
"He's my mentor, Adrian. You know that."
"I know," he said, eyes softening. "I just… forgot how it feels to see you smile for someone else."
Her heart trembled. She turned away before he could see the tears forming.
"Don't say things like that," she whispered. "We're both supposed to have moved on."
Adrian smiled sadly. "Then why does it still hurt?"Outside, rain started again — gentle, endless, like the heartbeat of Paris itself.
Inside, two hearts stood too close to deny, and too scared to admit.