Chapter 126 Familiar Taste
"If I'm going to use pastry to say what I mean, I don't want to have any regrets. I need to get this right—even if it's not the best in the world, I need to know I gave it everything I had."
If she hadn't overheard Terrence's conversation, Bianca might have agreed with Jasmine.
But Terrence had already gone out of his way for her. Now it was her turn to do the same.
Making the almond pastries was tedious, time-consuming work. Every step demanded steady patience and precise movements.
The outer water dough and the inner butter dough had to be kneaded separately until silky smooth, then rolled out, folded, and rolled again—this layering process had to be repeated twelve times to create that delicate, flaky structure.
At first, Bianca kept using too much force, tearing the dough and ruining batch after batch. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and when she finally stopped, her hands were trembling.
Her breathing came fast and shallow, as if she'd just sprinted a hundred yards.
Jasmine frowned, worried that Bianca was pushing herself too hard.
"Bianca, maybe you should take a break? This kind of technique isn't something you master in a day."
Bianca shook her head and looked up at the chef, her tone earnest. "Is there a trick to rolling the dough? I can't seem to get the pressure right."
The chef answered patiently. "The pressure has to be even. When you fold it, go light—otherwise you'll flatten all those layers you're trying to build."
Bianca lowered her eyes and went back to the repetitive motions.
The ache in her wrists grew sharper, but she acted as if she didn't feel it, her movements never faltering, focused only on making each piece of dough as perfect as possible.
Night fell, and soon only the three of them remained in the workshop.
Jasmine and the chef kept yawning, but Bianca stayed laser-focused, her rolling technique gradually smoothing out.
When she pulled the baking sheet from the oven, her fingertip caught the edge and blistered instantly. She flinched, tears springing to her eyes from the sting.
She hissed softly through her teeth but didn't dwell on the pain, slapping on a bandage and diving right back into the work.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the first batch came out of the oven. The pastry was so delicate it crumbled at the slightest touch, and when she bit into one, the aroma filled the air immediately—the almond filling was smooth and sweet, perfectly balanced.
The chef tasted a few pieces before nodding. "Not bad. You've got the basics down."
A flicker of joy crossed Bianca's face. She carefully packed the remaining pastries into a box, said goodbye to Jasmine and the chef, and hurried back to the apartment with the still-warm treats.
She pushed open the door and set the box on the counter, rubbing her cold hands together before flipping on the lights.
Warm yellow light flooded the empty living room. Terrence emerged from the study, pulling off his glasses, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
She crossed the room quickly and threw herself into his arms, soaking up his warmth.
"You've been working this whole time. You must be exhausted." Bianca looked up at him, concern softening her gaze.
Terrence lifted a hand to ruffle the back of her head. "What kept you out so late?"
Bianca blinked, a hint of mischief in her expression.
She pulled away, turned back to grab the box, and held it out to him.
"I made these. Myself." Her eyes lit up as she watched him, anticipation written all over her face.
Terrence lifted the lid curiously. Inside, the almond pastries were arranged in neat rows. His pupils contracted slightly.
The pastries were perfectly rounded and inviting, baked to a warm golden brown. The surface was crisp and layered, delicate as tissue paper, still radiating heat from the oven.
Something soft and warm brushed against his chest.
Terrence picked one up and bit into it gently. The buttery crispness and the sweet almond filling bloomed slowly across his tongue. He looked up and found himself caught in Bianca's bright, shining gaze.
Her eyes were full of tenderness.
Bianca's expression turned serious, her voice losing its usual sweetness. "Last night, on the balcony—I heard your conversation with Barry."
Under Terrence's startled gaze, Bianca continued. "That recording was from before the wedding. Back then, everyone was telling me how terrible you were. They said you were cold-blooded, ruthless, unforgivable.
"I was just a naive girl who didn't know any better. I didn't want to be a pawn in some arranged marriage. I didn't want to be trapped in a loveless engagement. My family pressured me, and I said those awful things.
"But I don't believe in fate. And I didn't believe that some so-called monster could control half of Sovereign City's power. So I started learning about you, getting closer to you. And I realized you weren't anything like what they said. I started to admire you. To like you. I stopped fighting the engagement. I stopped fighting you."
Her gaze was sincere, her slender fingers resting lightly on Terrence's chest.
Terrence felt warmth spreading from his chest through his entire body. The shadows in his eyes dissolved, leaving only tenderness. He pulled her into his arms, his nose brushing the top of her head.
"I believe you."
Those few simple words hit Bianca like a hammer to the chest, making her heart race.
She couldn't help but smile, nestling obediently against him. "So how do they taste? I went to a professional chef to learn how to make them. You'd better not say they're bad." Bianca's lips formed a slight pout, her eyes expectant.
He'd been so moved earlier that he hadn't really savored them.
Terrence picked up another pastry, his fingertips registering the thin, crisp layers. The moment he bit down, delicate crumbs fell into his palm, and the almond filling melted on his tongue.
What shocked him even more was that the taste was identical to the one in his memory.
He froze suddenly, emotions surging in his eyes, his fingertips trembling slightly, even his breathing slowing.
Tasting it carefully, he realized—this was exactly like the almond pastries his grandmother used to make.
That warmth buried deep in his heart, Bianca had recreated it so perfectly.
Shock and emotion crashed over him simultaneously, his throat tightening.
Bianca saw the shift in his expression and said softly, "I learned from a chef, but my skills are clumsy. It took me forever to get it right. I'm not sure I completely captured your grandmother's recipe—that taste carries so many memories. I hope you don't mind.
"I know the road you've traveled hasn't been easy. Maybe you didn't get much warmth from your family. I want to protect that warmth for you. And I'll keep bringing it to you, from now on."
These were things she'd only learned in her previous life.
But in that life, she hadn't truly taken them to heart. Fortunately, she'd been given a second chance.
Her words flowed into his heart like warm water. Terrence's throat constricted, his grip on her hand tightening, his deep eyes brimming with emotion, his voice low but solemn.
"Bianca, this is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. Bar none."
He'd never told anyone about the regrets he carried, yet she'd sensed them somehow. With her own two hands, she'd made something that filled the void he'd carried for years.
Bianca's eyes reddened, her nose brushing against his shoulder. "You're such a smooth talker. If you like them, I'll make them for you every day."
The words had barely left her mouth when Bianca suddenly pushed away from Terrence, straightening up, her expression turning serious, her brow furrowing slightly.