Bitterly Sweetly (Completed)

Chapter Eight : The Caterer And The Critic

Max was seething as he looked out the window of his car—his jaw clenched, fingers curled around the steering wheel.

What the hell was Neil doing there talking to Sofia? And what the hell were they conversing so intensely about?

With narrowed eyes, he played close attention to their expressions.

He watched as Neil seemed to plead about something to Sofia, and he could see her denying it, and then Neil got all desperate. They talked back and forth for a little while, and then she nodded as though she was giving her consent.

But to what?

And then Neil pumped a fist in the air!

Max's eyes narrowed.

They talked some more, and then she smiled brilliantly before Neil was turning to leave towards his car parked about ten feet away.

Max felt his stomach drop.

What the f*ck just happened?

Feeling his mood souring, Max quickly pulled out of there. He drove off at a raging speed that matched the reckless state of his mind.

He himself didn't know for what purpose exactly he chose to drive down that particular road that went past Sofia's scrap of a diner—despite it being the longest route to the law firm.

It was instinctive, actually. Max admitted to himself.

Seeing Neil and Sofia conversing there had been a shock to him, and before he knew, he had kicked the break and stopped at the sight of his brother talking to her. What a mistake that had been!

Now he found it challenging to sit still from curiosity.

And because he failed to figure out a way to sate his questions, he felt an uncomfortable kind of anger beginning to blaze inside.

--

Cooking.

That was the one thing that Sofia had concentrated almost obsessively and mastered upon in those lonely, depressing years after Max left.

She had missed those endless times he had brought smiles to her face, helped her with studies and assignments, and bickered over all the scientific stuff he was so passionate about. She had ruined it all in order to hide her very personal, escalating hell—that hell, however, all of a sudden dissipated by the fire that took away her parents. The sight of their dead bodies with white clothes covering their faces was still vivid in her memories. One hell ended to start another. Soon, she found herself drowning in depression. There was just way too much guilt and grief to bear.

There was no Max to lean onto. He was long gone.

And she'd pushed him away herself—it was an ever-scalding knowledge in her mind.

Grampa took her in instantly. But the void inside her had grown to become pitless already.

Her interest and efficiency in cooking had come in handy then. Shouldering the complete responsibility of the kitchen of her new home had helped her win over the darkness. The way—that had been a means for her to fight the sudden emptiness of her life had soon turned into a career. And Sofia had swum out of the depths of the darkness to see, really see, the light found happiness in all the little things in life, and in the smiles that she could put onto others' faces around her.