Chapter 4 Two years later (18 years old)
A blast of hot air warmed my face as I opened the oven, releasing a great puff of steam. The smell of freshly baked buns permeated the air. My stomach gurgled as I inhaled the scent and withdrew the tray of pineapple buns to examine them. Crispy, golden-brown crust gleamed under the kitchen lights, each bun flawlessly round and plump.
Mmm, perfection.
I switched off the oven and used my arm to wipe away the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
While waiting for the buns to cool on a rack, I washed the remaining dishes from this morning’s baking. A lot had piled up, thanks to my experimentation on a perfect strawberry-chocolate custard tart. I grimaced at the stack of bowls and spoons coated with layers of chocolate and custard. So far, all my
