The school auditorium had never looked more alive.
Two large tables stood at the front, each neatly prepared with cooking stations, ingredients, and chef whites neatly folded beside them. St. Raymond's students filled one side of the audience, while Ray's school sat on the other. Teachers, local chefs, and invited guests made up the judging panel.
Milicent stepped onto the stage, tying her apron calmly. Her eyes scanned the crowd, landing briefly on Ray — sitting in the front row, smiling at her like she had already won.
Then came Jasmine.
She arrived in a silk-lined apron, high ponytail flicked back, and her father in the VIP row, surrounded by reporters. The judges shook her hand. Some clapped.
Milicent didn't flinch. But inside, her heart pounded like a drum.
"Contestants," the host called out. "You have two hours. Your theme is 'Heritage with a Twist.' You may begin… now!"
the 4 contestants began Milicent, Jasmine and the other girls from Raymond academy
And with that, the competition began.
Milicent moved with precision — chopping, marinating, searing. She combined bold spices with subtle sweetness, folding her memories into every bite. Jasmine, on the other end, was graceful — elegant with her cuts, confident with her sauces, plating each dish like it belonged in a five-star magazine.
But Milicent had something else.
Grit. Fire. A point to prove.
The judges sat in silent conversation, their notepads filled, their expressions unreadable. The hall quieted as murmurs died down and the moment of truth drew near.
Milicent wiped her hands on her apron slowly, her heart thudding like a drum in her chest. Jasmine stood poised, arms crossed, her lips wearing a forced smile, though the tension in her eyes betrayed her.
The head judge finally rose.
"This competition," he began, "was not just about food. It was about creativity. Discipline. Integrity. It was about heart."
contestants from the two schools !!!
he paused
The room held its breath.
"after careful review of both performance and circumstances, we are proud to announce that the winner of this year's Inter-School Culinary Championship is…"
A beat passed.
"Milicent henshaw"
The crowd exploded in applause.
Cheers rose from the student body like a wave, some standing, some screaming Milicent's name. Teachers clapped proudly. A few gasped in disbelief — especially those who had counted her out before it even started.
And Ray? He was on his feet instantly.
His voice broke above the rest: "Let's go, Milicent!"
Ray didn't wait.
As Milicent descended from the stage, holding the trophy with both hands like it was her whole heart, he ran to meet her halfway. She was blinking fast, as though the win hadn't quite registered — like she was waiting to wake up.
"You did it," he said, grabbing her hands. "You actually did it."
"No, Ray," she whispered, eyes full of tears she refused to let fall. "We did it. You believed in me when I didn't even see this version of myself."
He pulled her into a hug — tight, real, the kind that held both pride and something deeper that didn't need words yet.
Jasmine stood frozen as the crowd erupted around Milicent's name.
Her perfectly glossed lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted toward the judges, as if waiting for them to call her name instead — to say it was all a mistake.
They didn't.
She watched as Milicent stepped forward, trophy in hand, glowing with a kind of quiet grace that Jasmine could never fake.
Humiliation prickled hot under her skin. She forced a smile — sharp and cold — then turned abruptly and stormed off the stage.
Backstage, her friends caught up with her.
"She only won because of pity," one of them hissed.
"Or maybe the judges just hate real talent," another added.
Jasmine clenched her jaw. "That girl thinks this makes her special? It's one lucky day. One. She doesn't belong in our league."
One friend leaned in close, whispering, "Should we remind her who really runs things around here?"
Jasmine's eyes narrowed, voice low but venomous.
"She embarrassed me today. But let her enjoy it… because I don't lose twice."
She snapped her clutch shut and walked off, her heels hitting the floor like warning shots.
Milicent had won the competition — but Jasmine?
She was already planning her revenge.
---
Later that week, Milicent was called into the principal's office.
Waiting there were two women — representatives from the Rising Flame Culinary Institute and a popular online cooking show, Spoons & Stories. They'd seen the footage. The story. The dishes. They wanted Milicent for more than just a competition win — they wanted her story, her flavor, her vision.
They offered her a scholarship, plus a guest feature on the show's teen segment.
Milicent could barely speak. Her life — which had always felt so ordinary — was suddenly anything but she's now becoming a star
"So," Ray said, breaking the silence, "you're going to be famous now. TV shows. Fancy chefs. Probably your own cookbook by 19."
Milicent chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder. "And you'll still be the one who believed before anyone else."
"I always will," he murmured. "You've got this light in you, Millie. People see it now. But I saw it when no one was looking."
She turned her face slightly toward him. "And what if I leave? What if I go too far?"
Ray smiled. "Then I'll just follow you. With my own camera. Your official taste-tester."
She laughed, a soft breeze brushing through her hair. "Deal."
And in that quiet, golden hour, they didn't need applause, or trophies, or recognition.
They had possibility.
They had each other.
And that was more than enough to begin with.
Come see me at night in my room
I do have something to give to you
he said giving a wink
oh Really
"Umm yeah see you by night time