Chapter 88. Chef’s Kiss: pt. 5

A week had passed since Elliot confessed his feelings over French toast, and just like that, we were officially dating.

It felt effortless, like slipping into a favorite pair of jeans that fit just right after years of awkward tugging. Great, right? I thought so every time I caught him looking at me across the kitchen, that soft smile pulling at his lips. The gym sessions had transformed me in ways I hadn’t expected—four times a week, starting slow like he promised, no leg days at first, but now my body was shifting. I’d lost the extra softness around my middle, my hips curving into that petite pear shape I’d always envied in magazines. My glutes burned with every step, a good ache that reminded me of progress, of squats and lunges done side by side with him spotting me, his hands steady on my waist.

We’d gone to see my mother last weekend, Milika tagging along like the loyal best friend she was. Mom’s face lit up when she saw my diploma, her hands trembling as she unrol