CHAPTER 29: THE COOKATHON

Roseline's POV…

I stared at the long line of chefs ahead of me, most of them gently arranging their equipment. It was finally the day of the cookathon, and while everyone else seemed buzzing with excitement, I was completely detached.

Earlier this morning, I got the call: my father had suffered another medical episode. It was severe enough that they couldn't even risk moving him to a hospital; instead, they had to rush a doctor directly to the house. I’ve been rigid with tension ever since, my mind completely consumed by the fact that I haven't been able to see him.

“Are you good?” Mr Teddy asked.

I nodded slowly and tried to form a warm smile.

After a few minutes the cookathon began, chefs assembled at their different posts and we began cooking.

They gave us one hour for the first round.

The sound of dicing onions, a clattering spoon, and chopped herbs filled the room.

At the front, the judges sat with pens and paper in hand, watching our every move as we cooked.

When the time came for the tasting, they began moving from table to table. The first round went well, but I had initially forgotten to add enough pepper to my dish, a flaw they quickly pointed out. It almost cost us valuable points, but fortunately, they decided to let it slide.

“Roseline”I heard his voice from the crowd.

I turned and saw him approaching with a flower in his hand.

“Florian?”

The instructor told us he wouldn't be around because he had to attend to some important business so nobody expected him to show up.

He walked up to me and gave me a warm hug, before giving me the flowers.

“What's going on? You don't look so good,” he asked, gently placing his hand on my cheek.

“It's my dad," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "The doctor had to come by this morning because he wasn't feeling well.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Don't worry, as soon as the cookathon is over, we'll go see him together,” he reassured me.

I nodded slowly. For some odd reason, a wave of relief washed over me just hearing him say that.

The second half of the cookathon kicked off as the chefs assembled at their stations, ready for the next challenge. This time, we were given exactly forty minutes to prepare and present our signature dish.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before diving into the work.

I allowed my hands to feel the ingredients, I allowed my body to flow with the scent.

I stirred and tasted the food a couple of times before smiling in satisfaction.

Then it was another tasting time.

Just like the other round the judges moved around tasting the food.

This time around once the judge that pointed out the pepper problem before tasted my food, she smiled and gave me a thumbs up.

The judges had eliminated one team each round until only two remained: our team, and our rivals. They were a powerhouse filled with world-class chefs, faces I recognized from the cooking magazines and videos I’d devoured when I was first learning how to cook.

The final round was agonizingly tense. When the time came for the tasting, every chef stood rigidly beside their dish, eyes focused on the judges' faces, desperate to read their reactions. Once again, that one particular judge tasted my food and offered a subtle, knowing smile.

During a brief break before the final decision, the blonde female judge walked up to me.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I'm good,”I said with a warm smile on my face.

“It's against the rules for me to say anything before the final judgment but after this I would love to see you, can you share your recipe with me?”

“A cook never reveals her secret,” I said.

We both broke into laughter, the momentary warmth cutting through the building tension of the kitchen.

Then came the announcement. We were called together for the final judgment.

As we gathered, the room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Hands were shaking, and everyone held their breath, waiting for the judges to speak the final words. When the results were finally called out, the other team won.

The sting of loss was sharp, but it was quickly softened by pride, we had taken second place.

“Congratulations you guys, you did so well,” Florian said, pulling us into a warm, fierce hug that made the second place win feel like a triumph.

“I'm proud of how far we all have come, we didn't win but we did well, we went up against people that have been in the game before us and we got second place, that alone is a win” he said.

After the cookathon, the team threw a celebration party at the restaurant, but I couldn't bring myself to stay. I needed to see my father. Florian insisted on coming along, even though I told him it wasn't necessary.

When we arrived, my dad was awake and sitting up in bed, happily sipping the soup the cooks had prepared for him. He was overjoyed to see us, but in typical fashion, he told us we shouldn't have made the trip, a phone call to check in would have been more than enough.

“I was so worried, I had to come see you”

I said.

He just smiled, there was an edge to his smile.

I could see the sadness in his eyes as he flashed us another bright smile.

This made my heart ache even more.

After some hours, we decided to leave and head back to the celebration party.

We walked down the stairs, and as we turned, my eyes landed on her, her short brown hair, a face that looked almost exactly like mine, and that tight, evil smile.

“Rose,”she called out.

She was another person that loved calling me Rose, but I hated it when she said it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.