Abby

The morning sun filters through the large windows of the mansion’s kitchen, casting a warm, golden glow over the array of ingredients that's waiting for us.

I'm standing at the counter island, a chopping board and a pile of fresh vegetables in front of me. The familiar scents of garlic and herbs fill the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and the occasional burst of laughter from my team.

“Merde, John,” Anton exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “Two weeks, and you have forgotten how to make a roux!”

John chuckles, a deep and gravelly sound. “Oh, hush, Anton,” he teases. “You know I make the best macaroni and cheese you've ever tasted. You've said so yourself.”

Anton grimaces. “No, no,” he says, “I said that your macaroni and cheese is the best I have tasted, but that is only because it's the only macaroni and cheese I have ever tasted. I would never willingly sully my palate with something so... fatty and unrefined.”

Anton's words lead to a chorus of laughter from myself and the rest of the team. It's a comforting cacophony, a reminder of why I love cooking—it's not just about the food, but the people and the moments we share.

And god, how much I missed cooking with my team.

As I keep chopping the vegetables, I glance around at the well-oiled machine that is my staff.

John and Anton, as always, are manning the stoves with practiced ease. They move almost in a mirror image of each other; it's funny to see how close they've become, like brothers as they work. They banter relentlessly, but their dishes always turn out perfectly, with just the right blend of seasoning and the perfect texture.

Meanwhile, Ethan, Daisy, Leah, and Chloe are spread out across the kitchen, each absorbed in their own tasks. Ethan is meticulously chopping onions, Daisy is stirring a pot of what will soon become a rich and hearty stew, Leah is whisking a dressing for the salad, and Chloe, ever the perfectionist, is arranging the freshly baked bread on various platters.

She doesn’t see me looking, and I don't keep my gaze on her for long. We've hardly spoken this morning.

“Abby, how's the veggie prep coming along?” John calls out, his voice rising above the clatter of pots and pans. He pulls me out of my reverie, and I return to my work.

“Just about done,” I reply, my knife slicing through a carrot with a satisfying crunch.

“I must say,” Anton chimes in then, “this kitchen is a dream to work in. Your taste is impeccable, Abby. Perhaps you and Karl should team up again as husband and wife, and decorate my kitchen next.”

"Oh, Anton,” Daisy chides, clicking her tongue. “Watch what you say!"

Anton's words, although coming from a good place, make my heart clench a little. I glance up at Chloe, who just so happens to look up at me at the same time. She's still mad at me, and we both quickly look away.

But she'll come around; I'm sure of it. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

A few hours later, we're all bustling around, packing up the prepared food and utensils for the move to the volunteering location. The atmosphere is charged with excitement and a hint of nervous energy.

Today's event is special, because we're not just cooking; we're part of something bigger, contributing to the community by helping at the library's building project. I know that this community doesn’t mean as much to them as the city, but it still means something, and that's all that matters to me.

As we arrive at the library location, the scene is already a hive of activity despite the early hour.

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