Parted and Reunited (Bianca's Side)
Mmm— mmm— Summer's nearly at its end. Autumn's just beginning, yet the cicadas' song still drifts in through the window. It's been about nine months since Carlyle Schultz left.
The bright blue sky and waves of lush green greenery adorned the sprawling campus. In the main building of the Culinary Arts Department, an important practical exam was in full swing. Students with focused expressions trimmed their ingredients, holding their breath in tension.
"What I value most is the degree of doneness in the dish."
The department professor was a chef who'd earned three Michelin stars—a notoriously tough feat—and a returnee from overseas studies. In short, he was an authority bordering on scholarly in this field, with a palate to match: incredibly discerning.
Degree of doneness... degree of doneness...
Bianca etched every word the professor said into her mind. She'd been thoroughly chewed out in the previous practical, so she was determined to nail this one.
"Um... Bianca."
"Yes, Professor!"
"Why the garnish? I told you last time—unnecessary decorations don't count."
She'd been scolded that garnishing a dish to make it look appetizing or luxurious doesn't improve the taste. The professor's sharp words still made her dizzy when she thought back on it.
I still don't get it, honestly...
There were all sorts of philosophies in cooking. Bianca believed pretty food whetted the appetite more, but when it came to exams, you had to cater to the grader's preferences. She'd been a model student back in her school days, so she knew that well.
Yeah, I can do this.
So this time, Bianca focused purely on the dish itself. Today's assignment: braised fish. The degree of doneness was everything.
The sauce balance matters too.
She double-checked her measurements meticulously. The exam theme had been announced last week, so she'd spent the past few days perfecting the sauce—soy sauce, sugar, and other seasonings in just the right proportions. Countless trials.
Stick to what I researched. Mind the doneness too.
Temperature and time, precise to the second—no room for error!
Her amethyst eyes blazed with passion. Her small hands moved busily. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but there was no time to wipe it—she was all in on the cooking.
Her delicate features, sharp with concentration. The way she occasionally clenched a tiny fist and grinned when things went well, or let a smile slip. Every little gesture was utterly lovable and cute.
"Phew, done...!"
The way she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. No wonder some of the male classmates kept stealing glances at her—and messed up their own doneness as a result. Not Bianca's fault, really. She'd unintentionally knocked out her competitors.
Ding— ding—
"Time's up."
Grading time. The strict professor sampled each dish in turn. Failures piled up. Underdone—fail. Doneness good, but sauce off—fail.
"Is this really braised fish? Slapping a name on it doesn't make it so."
Innovative approach, but not braised—fail. Even some results were deferred. Most students' faces fell, and Bianca's tension grew.
Finally, her turn. The professor took a bite.
Crunch— munch—
Thoughtful, picky tasting. Gulp. Bianca swallowed dryly in nerves.
Please go well... I worked so hard.
The verdict came.
"The doneness is excellent."
Great start—Bianca lit up and jumped in with her explanation.
"Yes, Professor! I used sous-vide. I thought it'd ensure even cooking through better than straight pan-frying."
"Sous-vide for fish... Not a bad choice for braising, certainly."
Sous-vide: cooking evenly in warm water. With the three-hour limit, it was Bianca's pick to cook the fish flesh thoroughly. He took another bite.
"Mm, and... the well-balanced sauce has a nice kick for me."
Kick? What's that? Must be some study-abroad lingo. As Bianca puzzled it out—
"Bianca, you pass."
Her face bloomed into a grin.
"Really...?"
Was the professor's smile always this kind? Beaming ear-to-ear, clapping her hands, Bianca bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Professor! It's all thanks to your teaching!"
"No, no, Bianca. It was a pleasure to taste something so true to the basics. Keep pushing yourself."
Recognition earned. After skimping on sleep for days, it felt like sweet reward. Bianca floated on air.
La la— lulu—
Exams done, she hummed homeward, joyful.
Tomorrow... really tomorrow...
Bianca blinked and pinched her cheek—it still wasn't sinking in. Exam aced, and Carlyle back soon. Dream or not.
Shasha's words made Bianca chuckle.
"...What can I do? He's just that great."
She loved him so much her feet fidgeted, her mouth stretched in a dopey grin. Of course, Carlyle had visited twice during holidays.
I went once too...
So, roughly once every three months. Those sweet times together were precious, but mostly being apart wasn't easy.
She said that, but every goodbye at the station left her clinging tight, reluctant to let go.
"Gotta let me go if you want me back, girlfriend."
Carlyle would coax her gently, wipe her tears—and only then would she release him.
Early on, after he left, sleep evaded her. She missed him so fiercely. Thankfully, he'd call every night till she dozed off—grateful, guilty.
The calls always went like:
"Carlyle, I miss you..."
"Me too, Bianca. How was your day? Anything happen?"
"...Just you. I missed you all day."
He'd laugh helplessly, soothe her. Then warm chats: check-ins, I miss yous, I love yous. Love you, miss you, goodnight—her most-used phrases lately. Distance bred deeper affection.
Less than a year, but it felt eternal... to me.
But tomorrow. Carlyle Schultz returns tomorrow.
Exam success was great, but daily face-time with him again? Pure bliss. Heart soaring, she danced on the stairs, texting wildly. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
Lou, her junior, was no exception.
Oh, right...!
A sudden thought hit—Bianca clapped a hand over her mouth.
She dashed inside. She'd gotten sidetracked and forgotten about Ryle.
Door open, she sought him out—but he beat her to it, barreling straight into her arms.
Woof— woof woof!
The little brown fluffball wagged his tail furiously, leaping into her embrace. Bianca had named Carlyle's precious gift to her "Ryle."
"Aww, Ryle. Did you miss Mommy?"
As if agreeing, he panted happily, tongue lolling.
...Too cute.
Heart-melting. A playful pup's affection was unbearable. The tiny thing had grown to nearly her forearm length. Still a baby, though. She fed him, then showered carefully.
"Eat up, Ryle."
Extra thorough wash today, comfy clothes on, then scooped him up for bed.
"Already out cold, huh."
Full belly, sound asleep. Small, cute. Felt protective. Yet this little guy had comforted her endlessly.
"Hey, Ryle... Your dad's coming back..."
When she missed Carlyle, hugging Ryle eased the loneliness. Worked wonders.
"Dad's back tomorrow."
She stroked his snout, whispering so as not to wake him, grinning dopily. Calling herself mom and Carlyle dad felt odd—but nice. Subtly pleasant, so she leaned into it.
Not wrong, either. She was mom to this pup; Carlyle, dad.
Just one more day. One day till tomorrow.
Wishing it here faster, she eased up gently.
"Dinner first, maybe...?"
After eating, her fluttering heart wouldn't settle. Workout, some anime—but couldn't focus. Paced, waiting for Carlyle's call.
"Ah, Carlyle...!"
Finally, his voice. Cozy chat.
"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow."
Played it cool, but post-call, excitement surged. Heart pounding.
I might not sleep tonight...
Bianca had a feeling. Imagining leaping into his arms, that broad chest, his scent, his warmth—she'd pull an all-nighter.