Chapter 2

I pushed open the salon door and walked straight to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m Jenna Vogel.” I showed them my ID. “Could you please print out the record of yesterday’s appointment change, today’s payment receipt, and the release form for that finished photo?”

The receptionist froze for a moment, then checked my information and did as I asked.

I took the papers from her. The release form stated that the photo would be used for the salon’s marketing. The model was listed as Bianca, but the payer and the phone number on the release were both mine.

I folded the papers, put them into my bag, and headed to my community college night class.

I had enrolled in a foundational course on running a food business at the community college. It took place two nights a week and covered permits, cost calculation, and food safety.

The course had few openings and a low fee, but for me, it mattered more than anything.

I had always wanted to build a small food business with the recipes my mother left behind. It was something that could finally support me.

However, when I showed my registration QR code to the instructor at check-in, the scanner flashed an error.

“Miss, this code was already used this morning.”

The instructor checked the system. “The attendee is listed as Bianca Shelly. She used your code for the trial session.”

I stood frozen in place.

I called Dylan, but the call would not go through, so I had no choice but to text him.

A long while later, he finally replied.

[Jenna, Bianca has been feeling lost lately. She’s been really depressed. She saw that you signed up for the course and wanted to sit in once just to get some inspiration. It was only one class. It won’t affect you.]

I found the text on my screen ridiculous.

I turned to the instructor. “Can I still go in and take the class?”

The instructor shook her head apologetically. “Once the first check-in is tied to someone’s name, it can’t be changed. The system will automatically assign all subsequent class permissions and the completion certificate to the first person who scanned in. You’ll have to wait for the next term.”

I stood in the community college hallway and stared at the course schedule on the wall. The folder of class materials in my hand was crushed with deep creases from my grip.

Half an hour later, Dylan rushed over.

He was carrying a juice in one hand and the course materials Bianca had left behind in the other.

“Jenna, I’m so sorry. I had no idea the enrollment couldn’t be transferred.”

Guilt was written all over his face as he held the folder out to me. “Bianca just wanted a fresh start. She desperately needs something to take her mind off everything. I promise I’ll get you a spot in the next session, and I’ll pay you back double the tuition.”

I looked at the folder he was offering me. Bianca’s name had been written across the cover.

Inside was the cost analysis spreadsheet I had spent three late nights putting together in advance.

He did not just take a small registration fee from me. He took a foundation stone I had laid for my future and used it as a mere stepping stone for Bianca.

I did not take the juice.

I reached out calmly, pulled my photocopied ID from the folder marked with Bianca’s name, and slipped it into my own bag.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to pay me back.” With that, I turned and walked away.

That night, I returned to the apartment and dragged out an empty suitcase. One by one, I packed the professional books on the table and my personal belongings inside. When I finished, I sat on the edge of the bed and instinctively lit up my phone, only to see Bianca’s latest social media post.

[Finally, someone handed me a chance to start over when I was at my lowest.]

The photo showed her study notes laid out neatly. Those were my notes, written in my own hand over sleepless nights.

I tapped the image to zoom in. Then, my fingers froze.

At the very bottom edge of the notes, peeking out from the corner, was a fragment of my mother’s handwritten recipe, the photocopied page I had kept tucked inside that folder.