#114: Fallen: Fire and Redemption - Everything That Never Was

***Violet***

If someone saw me right now, hunched over the kitchen counter with four open notebooks, three pots on the stove, and about fifteen dirty spoons lying around, they’d swear I was at the peak of productivity. A creative genius, focused and determined.

But the truth? I was trying not to think.

Hiding behind recipes always worked for me. It was like turning the world off and focusing only on the smell, the texture, the perfect point of butter in the pan. The problem is, the trick doesn’t always work—especially when the reason for your mental chaos has a name, a last name, and a birthday coming up.

Ethan.

Julian thinks my culinary breakdown has to do with the new restaurant. And partly, yeah, it does. But it's not just that. It hasn’t been just that.

Ethan’s birthday is coming. And even though he’s no longer here, even though I’ve cried rivers and buried a piece of myself along with him, there’s something about this date that paralyzes me. Every year. Like a cruel reminder of everything that never was.

It’s like my body remembers on its own —no help needed. I get restless, and I barely sleep. I start cooking like I’m feeding an army. I test recipes that make no sense and mix flavors that probably won’t work, just to keep my mind busy. Just so my heart doesn’t scream louder than the stove.

Julian hasn’t asked anything. He just watches. He looks at me from a distance with that face of his—a man trying to understand a woman. But he doesn’t insist. And I’m grateful. Because I’m not ready to share these thoughts. Especially not with him.

It’s not that I don’t trust him. It’s that I still don’t know how to deal with it myself.

What if he thinks I haven’t moved on? What if he thinks I’m comparing? Or worse, what if he starts believing I wish I was still with Ethan, not him?

It’s not like that. It hasn’t been like that for a long time.

But what do you do with a love that died too soon? Do you swallow it? Forget it? Lock it in a little box and hide it deep in the closet?

I try. I really do. But some days, he shows up in the dumbest little details. Like the way, Julian leaves the wet towel on the bed—just like Ethan. Or the way he drives with one hand on the wheel. Or when he calls me “pequena,” even though he knows I hate it.

There are days I look at Julian and think: thank God it’s him.

And there are days I feel like a fraud for not having completely forgotten the other.

And then, to make it worse, comes this avalanche of new things. We’re opening a restaurant. A business of our own. And even though I know how to run a kitchen with my eyes closed, I realized—maybe too late—that I have no idea how to do the rest.

Licensing? Supplier registration? Cash flow?

Julian’s handling everything. And he’s doing great. He’s competent, smart, and even patient when he needs to be.

But I don’t want to just stay in the kitchen. I don’t want to rely on him for everything. I want to understand. Learn. Be involved.

Maybe I should study. Take a course or something. Learn what no one ever taught me. Not out of insecurity, but because I know we’ll only work if we’re both getting our hands dirty. And not just in the literal sense.

But I don’t say any of this to him. Not even now, when he’s calling me from the living room, asking if I want help labeling the boxes.

“Almost done!” I shout, knowing it’s a lie. I still have twelve recipes to test.

I pause and lean against the counter, looking around.

Our house is a mess. Flour on the floor, an apron thrown over the couch, and some random French playlist playing like it’s supposed to inspire me. But even so… it’s our house. And that changes everything.

The sunlight comes through those big windows Julian chose when he rented the place. He said it was for the natural light. I know it was just an excuse to see me smile when I woke up with the sun on my face.

He does these things. In his messy, imperfect way, but he does.

And that’s why, even with my mind full of past and future, even with my chest tight from longing and fear, I’m still here. With him. Trying.

I grab the spoon again and taste the sauce I was testing. It’s almost good. Something’s missing, but I can’t tell what. Maybe it’s just my head messing with my taste.

Julian walks into the kitchen with a glass of juice.

“You need to hydrate. You’re starting to look like a sad houseplant—wilted and forgotten.”

“Romantic.” I roll my eyes but take the glass anyway.

“Is the recipe good?” he asks, peeking over my shoulder.

“Not sure yet. I think it’s missing something.”

“Like a touch of love?” he teases, kissing my cheek.

“Like fewer jokes and more help, maybe,” I answer, but there’s no edge to it. It’s just us.

He grabs a spoon and tastes it. Makes that thoughtful face.

“It’s good. But it’s... held back. Like you.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got your head somewhere else. And don’t tell me it’s just the restaurant. You think I don’t notice?”

I stay quiet.

He sighs, puts down the spoon, and pulls me close.

“I’m not gonna push you to talk. But if there’s something I can do... just say it.”

I almost say it. Almost let slip that Ethan’s birthday is coming. I feel like a traitor for even remembering it while building a new life. I’m tired of pretending to be strong all the time.

But I just rest my head against his chest and close my eyes.

“Help me plate this?”

He smiles. Hugs me tighter.

“Always.”

I smile more, pressed against his skin, breathing in the mix of his cologne and his natural scent—my new favorite smell. I love this contact, how he warms me up and always seems ready to die for me, even if that’s terrifying.

Still, it’s what keeps me here—almost addicted to that insane look he gives me, ready to jump into anything I want without hesitation.

Julian seems like the kind of complication I thought I should avoid. But now, he’s exactly what I need. I guess that’s it—even with the feelings I’ve buried trying to get in the way, this feels like it’s heading in the right direction.

And I’m willing to take the next step.

I just need to not let every bump in the road break me, because as hopeful as I might feel right now, we’re Violet and Julian, like he already said.

Chaos always finds its way back to us.