Chapter Thirty-three
Hazel
Ignore Rain Dacosta.
I’ve decided to write that down and follow it. I even posted a calendar sticker on my wall to track how much time is left.
It’s been three days since our little drama in the hallway (he left me there with a ‘goodnight’ after I offered to make him feel good too), and I’ve been avoiding him—partly because I’m embarrassed, and partly because I’m angry he keeps ruining our moments with his stupid restraint. I suspect he’s been avoiding me as well, because although I leave the house around six in the morning, I always find him gone.
I’m half-disappointed that he doesn’t even attempt to give me rides like that day, and the only thing that makes me happy is that he takes the lunch boxes I keep on the kitchen counter for him, but I think it’s all for the best. Now that I’ve also made up my mind to avoid him, the rest of the months can continue to speed up.
I’m still hurt that he left me hanging when we could have taken it further, but in a way, I understand him. We’ve kissed, he has worked his fingers on me, there’s only a little left to do for us to completely blur out the lines of our arrangement. While I may be ready for that, it’s possible that he isn’t. He’s the same man whose family has to force into a marriage for him to be with a woman again.
Perhaps going at his pace is the best idea. Or ignoring him completely.
In less than forty minutes, I have to visit the closest Henri Leclair Foodcademy, which is in Orlando. Su-mi has been gushing about it all morning, but I can’t find it in me to gush with her. The nervousness eating me up from the inside is so obvious that she passes me a calming pill with no spoken words.
I pop one into my mouth, wondering if I should call my sister to hear her positive affirmations. I need one at the moment.
With no customer in sight to be served, I drop my head on the table, my thoughts drifting with a smile to how my sister reacted after hearing the news, which I told her three days ago—the morning before my moment with Rain.
“Belle, I got in!” I yell as soon as Ysabelle’s voice echoes through the receiver. My hand trembles with excitement as I hold the phone to my ear. She’s been my rock throughout the whole journey, even when there was no hope of me ever getting in.
Her shriek of joy is beautiful music to my ears. “Hazel, are you serious? I knew you could do it! I knew it! I never doubted you for a moment.” Because it’s her, I believe when she says it.
“I’m literally heading to their office … or whatever it’s called, in like three days. I’m so scared, happy, so everything,” I ramble on like a verbal diarrhea to my sister who I know will listen to me even if it takes all day.
“It’s valid to be scared,” Ysabelle’s tone turns soft and sentimental. “But as usual, I trust you. You’re going to shine so bright in that academy. I can’t wait to hear and see all the incredible things you do from now on.”
Tears prick at my eyes and I sniff as my conscience reminds me of the way I got the admission. “I love you, Ysa. You’re the best. And I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? That you doubted me? If that’s it, then you should be sorry. Remember Mrs Lawson would say I should become a shaman because of how good I could predict the future? I guess I still have it in me, hm?”
I giggle and nod. “I guess you do.”
“So are you fully prepared? With the interview questions, if they ask you. Oh and I need to tell Marlon to send your tuition fee.”
I laugh again at the way she sounds more nervous than I am. I’ve been saving up for the foodcademy since my high school days, and Ysabelle suggested I hand it over to Marlon for safety. It’s been the best decision I ever made because not only do I have zero worries about it being safe, but Marlon has refused to lend it to me on several occasions, and now it’s complete when I need it.
“A’ight, likkle sis, show everyone at the academy who the boss is.”
“Yes ma’am!” I respond with equal playfulness, pushing down my guilt with the decision of telling her when the ‘right time’ comes. We talk about more times for a few more minutes, I say my affirmations, and she hangs up.
Forty minutes soon pass and Joe shows up at the restaurant. My eyes widen when I see him, and as he sees the confusion in my eyes, he proceeds to explain.
“Mr Dacosta called me. He knows your schedule today.”
But why? Why does he like to crawl back into my heart every time I willingly let him out?
“You don’t have to worry, I’m not driving you for free. I got paid already,” Joe assures, unaware of the rustling emotions inside me.
I already requested for a half day from the manager, so it’s not an offense to leave without seeing him. Su-mi gives me a quick hug and shouts ‘fighting’ (a Korean expression for encouragement) to me with a fisted hand as I pick my bag and get into the car.
Two hours later, I take a deep breath as Joe pulls up to the grand entrance of the Foodcademy. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all my life. What can go wrong now?
“Good luck, Mrs Da … I mean Miss Wilmer,” Joe says with a warm smile as he lets me out of the car. “You’re going to crush it.” For the better.
I square my shoulders to appear more confident than I feel inside. “Thank you. I’ll try my best.”
I step out of the car and take a moment to soak in the air around the building. I’m here. I’m really here and doing this. Every step feels like I’m on my way to heaven, and I make sure to savor the moment. There’s only one first time.
Two securities block the way, and without flinching, I show them the email on my phone, watching as they scan the QR code before directing me to the secretary’s office, where a friendly man greets me.
“Hi there. Welcome to Henri Leclair Foodcademy. How may I help you?”
“I’m Hazel,” I say with a mild shaky voice. “I’m here because I got accepted into the school.”
The secretary’s face lights up. “Ah! Hazel Wilmer, if I’m correct?” I confirm. “Congratulations. Actually, you’ve chosen to come on the right day. Henri Leclair himself is in the building today. You might want to see him before he goes to address the graduating class. Hold on, I’ll check a few things.” He taps briefly on his keyboard. “Everything looks great. Come, I’ll show you to his office.”
My heart skips a beat. I’m going to meet Henri Leclair? The Henri Leclair I’ve watched on the screen for six years? I’m so not ready for this.
Few people pass by, jovially saying hello to the secretary as he leads me to a sleek, modern office with my heart in my mouth. He stops at the frosted tempered glass door that has CEO written in front, ushers me in, and returns to his post.
I enter Henri Leclair’s office, noticing the man himself—the CEO of HLF who has trained more than two thousand chefs and food critics around the world. He’s even more beautiful in person. He looks over six feet tall, with his lean, athletic build, he can pass for a basketball player rather than a chef who speaks life into delicacies. His eyes are a deep, piercing blue, with warmth that immediately puts me at ease.
Unlike my husband who’s always wrapped in suits, Henri is dressed impeccably in the comfortable old money style of black khaki pants and green wool sweater.
“Hello.” He gets up with a smile. “Welcome to the Foodcademy. I’m Henri Leclair, the CEO and founder.” He must be so humble if he thinks he has to introduce himself to me when I know his mother’s first name.
I take his outstretched hand, receiving a firm professional handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. You’ve always been my mentor. This is a dream come true.”
Henri chuckles. “I’m honored.” He waves me to take a seat, which I do, still awestruck in the presence of the man I’ve considered a legend my whole life.
“I’ve been so eager to get to know who you are. I mean your credentials came from Dacosta Technology.” I knew it. “Anyway, I’ll get down to business. This academy has a strict protocol to ensure our students receive the very best. You’ll be following what you will call a rigorous schedule. On the days you have classes, they start by 10am sharp. A second after that is considered late, and they are recorded. Five strikes result in an assignment rejection, and ten strikes result in a week suspension. Both will affect your results, so be careful. On the days you’ll be late, call a supervisor with your tangible reason.”
I suck in a breath at the information. Strict but understandable. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. And please call me Chef Leclair. I feel old when you call me sir.” We laugh. He’s not old at all. He’s a thirty-five years old man who looks ten years older, thanks to his father’s genetics. When the paparazzi leaked his parents’ photos, I swore his Dad was his older brother.
He hands me a leather-bound book. “This is your course outline. Take some time to review it, and let me know if you have questions. When leaving, hand it over to my secretary to get it customized for you. Everyone has their own customized book.” I take the book from him with excitement. This is it. It has happened. My life is officially complete.
“Where do I make tuition payments, sir? I mean, Chef Leclair.”
“All your payments have been settled from Dacosta Technology. I’m not supposed to tell you because it came with a note to keep it all anonymous, but for legal record sake, I have to let you know. Your tuition and whatever you might need money for in the future, like projects and practicals, has been settled.”
My jaw drops at the revelation. Chef Leclair tears out a white piece of paper for me. “It’s your receipt. You can pretend I never told you.” My eyes gape as Henri hands me the receipt. It’s a staggering amount, one that makes my heart race with disbelief.
“You don’t get it,” I say to Su-mi again. My foot bobs nervously, with one hand tapping on the tip of my nose, and the other holding out the receipt I got from Henri Leclair three hours ago.
“But I do. Because you’ve said it six times already. Rain sent the email for you—which we already know, and paid your tuition fee,” she repeats everything I’ve been mumbling since the past fifteen minutes I’ve been on video call with her.
Rain didn’t just ‘pay’ my tuition fee of six thousand dollars. He also covered any additional expenses that may incur in future , bringing the total to twenty thousand dollars.
He’s starting to scare me. Every time he steps in to help, I wonder if it’s because he truly wants to, or if he’s manipulating the situation to his own advantage, I can’t tell if it’s for free, or if I owe him something big in future.
I don’t like that I can’t even show my gratitude to him because he doesn’t want to admit he’s helping me. Every time I make up my mind to stay away from him, he finds his way back into my heart. And sometimes, without saying a single word.
“I don’t get why you’re so worked up. If he doesn’t want you to know, then maybe you should … not know?”
I frown, playing with a single braid. “But I want to thank him. You know how I can be, I always—”
“I know, I know,” Su-mi interrupts, rolling her eyes with a smile. “You always want to repay everyone who helps you.” Well at least I want to repay people when they help me, Su-mi rejects help all together—especially financial support. She insists it makes her feel less of herself. All her reasons are so wrong and right at the same time, that I can do anything other than pray for someone to come in and prove her wrong.
I settle into the bed, propping my phone up against a pillow to get a comfortable view of Su-mi’s face on the screen. Her hair is messy, with her favorite pink headband on.
“I just don’t get it. Shouldn’t he flaunt it in my face? He looks like the type of person to show off favors.”
She waves nonchalantly. “Maybe he wants to avoid your incessant ‘thank-yous’ and ‘I’ll forever be indebted to yous.’ He looks like the type of person to fear forever.” We chuckle together, even though I know she’s right. Rain hates forever. It’s the reason he has to pay for a marriage rather than go through the natural process. My heart aches.
“If Rain wants to be your secret benefactor, then that’s his choice. Please let this man have one good quality.”
“He has other good qualities too,” I argue.
“Ohh, wifey. Did you just defend your husband?”
I laugh it off, while Su-mi smirks. “Whatever. Now, spill the real tea. How was the academy? And by the academy , I mean Henri Leclair. He’s hot in real life, isn’t he? I bet he is.”
“He is,” I confirm. “It was so surreal to stand before him, Su-mi. I felt like I had achieved everything at that moment.” my best friend’s smile turns thoughtful, and I decide to add, “You’ll get what I mean when you meet your role model too.”
“Me meeting Sofía Morales? Oh please, that’s too far-fetched. She and I are worlds apart.”
“I don’t believe that anymore,” I say honestly, shaking my adamantly. “Meeting Henri Leclair today made me realize that these people live in the same world as we do. So I know that you’ll meet Sofía Morales one day. You are, after all, the most hardworking woman I know.” Su-mi grins and nods.
Comfortable silence reigns between us as we do our things—me putting my clothes away in my closet, and her doing her skincare. It’s always like that with us. Sometimes, we call for important things, while sometimes, it’s to not stay bored alone. We stay hours on video call, not saying anything, and going about our normal activities as if the other person doesn’t exist. Su-mi calls it our ‘bonding with boredom’ get-together.
I hear the front door open and my heart skips a bit. Three days of avoidance have done nothing but heightened the tension between us. I wish my best friend a goodnight, take a deep breath, and head down, my footsteps light on the stairs.
Rain stands in the entryway, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze lingers on me for a brief moment before moving on.
“Hey,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
No response. No acknowledgement. Rain’s eyes remain impassive as he continues pulling his shoes to wear his house slippers.
I know he’s aware of my presence, but choosing to ignore me. I take another step closer, trying to break the ice. “I … I want to talk to you.”
‘If he doesn’t want you to know, then maybe you should just not know.’ Su-mi’s words return to my mind. I know I owe Rain a lot, and I know that he deserves to know just how grateful I am. But if he wishes to remain anonymous, then the least I should do is respect his choice.
“I should go to bed, I’m tired.”
“Don’t be like that,” I plead. “Have dinner with me, Please.”