Chef

Chapter 1

My name is James, and I am a man who loves to cook for others. Since I was very young I’ve been really interested in cooking, and when I reached adulthood, I ended up becoming a chef for some pretty important people. I also started a catering service for weddings and events. I focused on developing my career and spent long hours working because I didn’t like being alone with myself... which ended up making my love life a disaster.

One day, while talking to one of my employees, he told me why I didn’t try to meet someone, saying my love life was very sad. I brushed it off and told him that I wasn’t interested at the moment. But when my day ended and I got home, I started thinking about what he had said, and deep down, he was right.

I created a profile on a dating app, filled in the basic information about myself: I love cooking, working out, movies... basic stuff, with a couple of photos of me, and then I left it at that.

I didn’t check the app for weeks. After a while, I remembered the profile and decided to take a look. There were a few requests—nothing too many, but enough to start making some choices. None of the girls really caught my eye, but then one appeared that brightened my day. Her name was Vanesa. She was of average height, from what I could tell by the pictures, with dark hair and brown eyes, and a curvy hourglass figure. She liked trying different foods, spending time in nature, and working from home.

We matched, and after a few weeks, we decided to meet.

I was quite nervous that day. I left work early to prepare at home and we agreed to meet at a nearby restaurant at 8 p.m. I arrived early, grabbed a snack, and waited for her. Twenty minutes later, I saw her walking in. She was wearing a white dress with a floral print, waved at me, and we sat down to talk. We talked about everything—what we did for a living, our hobbies, likes and dislikes... Vanesa told me she wasn’t from this city but had come here some time ago because she wanted a change of scenery. Since her job allowed her to do that, she didn’t hesitate. The hours flew by that night, and we decided to exchange phone numbers and plan another meet-up.

A few weeks later, we agreed to meet at her house. Since I was the chef, I’d take care of making dinner for her. She gave me the address, and it turned out to be a house on the outskirts of the city. I arrived around 6 p.m., rang the doorbell, and Vanesa opened the door. We exchanged two kisses and she invited me in. I left the grocery bags on the table, and she showed me the house. It was a one-story house, and she had a small gym set up with a treadmill. I asked her if she liked working out, and she said yes, explaining that since she loved food so much, she needed to exercise to burn off all the extra calories.

Hours later, we were in the kitchen, each with a glass of wine, talking about life while I cooked dinner. My dinner plan was to make a carbonara with a dessert—a small lemon tart.

During dinner, Vanesa would roll her eyes and sigh as she enjoyed my food.

"Oh my God, James, your food is orgasmic, I love it," Vanesa said.

"That’s my job," I added.

"If you keep cooking for me, my waistline is going to have problems," she joked.

I just smiled.

Vanesa and I started seeing each other more often. We made plans together—going to the movies, walking, doing sports, and of course, I kept cooking for her. Over time, since she lived alone, I moved into her house, and from that day on, things changed.

The house started to be filled with food everywhere—overstuffed cabinets, the fridge, everything was full of food. I suggested to Vanesa that, while I was out working, she should eat the meals I left for her at home, so she could act as my food critic for my work. I also started taking her to food tastings, and with the excuse of meals and working from home, she became more and more apathetic and sedentary at home. She barely stepped into the gym or went for walks anymore.