The Weight of Desire

Chapter 1: The First Bite

Izzie sat at her desk, wondering which version she was working on. Was it V2.3.1 or V2.3.2? She huffed as she racked her brain. A sip of cold coffee didn’t help. ‘Coffee,’ she thought, ‘that will solve my problems.’

She walked into the kitchen where Lydia and Marcus were flirting, again. ‘Hi guys,’ Izzie said with a polite smile. Lydia flicked her eyes to Izzie, Marcus nodded his head before returning his gaze to Lydia, and like everyday, Izzie was soon forgotten. She questioned why she still worked at this job. It’s not that the people were horrible, pay was bad or work was hard, she just felt like there was more to be found in life. The coffee machine whirred noisily, breaking her concentration and once more, her dreams of escape went poof.

Back at her desk, she clocked the time: 4:35pm. ‘Yikes,’ she thought, ‘I really need to get on and actually do some work!’ The next 25 minutes were spent feverishly working on V2.3.2, ironing out the mistakes in the report and emailing it across to her manager, Clara. She packed up her laptop and lunchbox, quietly satisfied with her work and delighted that she was working from home for the rest of the week. ‘Goodbye smelly office,’ she said to herself.

As she walked to the elevator, Izzie rubbed her flat stomach as if it would alleviate her hunger pang. She pressed G and the doors closed. She looked at the number 7, hoping it would be flashing white. It wasn’t and the lift sailed by. Izzie followed the floor up the door with her eyes, imagining if Corinne was on the other side. ‘Oh Corinne,’ Izzie lusted in her head, ‘where art thou– You need to stop romantising her, Iz. She’s ridden this elevator with you loads of times and you’ve not said as much as a, “hello,” to her!’ Izzie sighed as she finished telling herself off with her inner monologue. There it was again, the hunger pang. She needed to find somewhere to eat.

The rain fell in soft sheets over the city, turning the streets a shiny silver as the water reflected the street lights. Izzie hurried down the cobblestones, umbrella pressed tight in her hand. She waited at the traffic lights and turned around to look at her building. It was all glass and steel, cold and reflective. She felt like she had spent years climbing, learning the rules, staying small, staying invisible. Today had been like any other: meetings that went nowhere, emails that could wait, accolades she barely noticed. She sighed and flicked some rain water off of her umbrella, as she crossed the street.

Then she smelled it.

Warm, honeyed, spiced with something familiar yet impossible to name. Between a shuttered bookshop and a post office, a narrow doorway appeared that hadn’t been there yesterday. Deep red velvet curtains swayed gently in the wind. Above it, fresh gilded letters shimmered in the streetlight: La Promesse Lourde. Izzie hesitated. The name felt heavy in her chest, but her stomach fluttered with anticipation; a strange curiosity tugged her forward, as if the restaurant itself had a secret to offer. She reached for the door handle but it opened itself. She stepped through the doorway.

The warmth wrapped around her like a thick, soft silk scarf. The air smelled of roasted nuts, honey, and memory itself. Tables were draped in deep red linen, each set for one, and floating candles cast amber reflections across the walls. The restaurant seemed to hum quietly, a pulse she felt in her bones.

‘You’re just in time,’ a woman’s voice called from the kitchen. The door swung open and out walked a pretty, middle-aged woman with silver-streaked dark hair tied neatly into a bun and an elegant chef’s uniform with delicate embroidery dusted with flour. Her eyes met Izzie’s, and she smiled as if greeting an old friend. Her soft but commanding voice announced, ‘we’ve prepared something for you.’

Izzie blinked. ‘For me?’

‘Only those who are ready can find us,’ the woman replied with a sweet smile. She clicked her fingers and Izzie could have sworn she saw some sparkles come out of her tips. A waiter emerged and led her to a table. He flicked her napkin dramatically before setting it down on her lap. Another began to pour a glass of red wine.

‘Pinot Noir from Burgundy. Your favourite?’ the female chef asked, although Izzie sensed she already knew the answer.

‘Who are you? What is this place?’ Izzie asked.

‘We are La Promesse Lourde. It’s a restaurant my husband, Gabriel and I set up years ago. I am Sabine, pleased to meet you…’ Sabine stretched out her hand for Izzie to shake.

‘Izzie. I work not far from here. Boring job, you know how it is,’ she moaned.

‘I do not, no!’ Sabine declared gleefully. ‘I love being a chef, making people’s deepest and more profound desires come true.’

As she said this, a steaming bowl was set before Izzie. The scent rose like a gentle spell; rich, earthy beef mingling with smoky bacon, warm thyme, and garlic. The wine sauce added a deep, fruity sweetness, while mushrooms and onions released their own subtle perfume. It was intoxicating, coaxing a shiver of anticipation and a hunger that felt as much emotional as physical. The first bite melted across her tongue, and warmth spread through her chest, her fingers tingling, her thoughts sharpening. Hunger left her, but not entirely. A deeper craving lingered, an ache for fullness she had never let herself have.

‘Beef Bourguignon is my favourite…’ Izzie whispered as she began to moreishily spoon the food into her. Each mouthful brought a new sensation. She paired the wondrous meal with her delicious wine.

Tears pricked her eyes, a strange mix of relief and wonder. Sabine brushed Izzie’s shoulder lightly. ‘The first meal always does this. But the more you allow yourself, the more it gives. Some who come here find it changes their lives.’

Izzie laughed softly, nervously asking, ‘changes their lives?’

Sabine’s smile deepened. ‘It gives ambition where there was none, clarity where there was confusion, and desire in places you did not know were empty. Every bite carries a promise, and every promise comes with weight.’

Izzie smiled and she finished her final mouthful, licking the bowl clean. She’d never normally do that, but she felt compelled not to waste a drop. ‘How– How much do I owe you?’ she asked, turning around to see the restaurant was completely empty. ‘Hello? Sabine? Waiter?’ Izzie tried clicking her fingers, but nothing happened. She sat there for a moment, pondering what to do. She’d never dine and dash, so she took out her purse and laid down a twenty on the table.

‘I’m leaving now,’ she announced to the empty room, ‘I hope this covers it.’ She picked up her bag and umbrella and headed for the door. ‘Thank you…’

Outside, the rain had eased. The city looked different. It was taller, brighter, alive in a way it hadn’t been before. Izzie caught her reflection in a window: cheeks flushed, posture taller, presence heavier in the way she had always longed for. She felt… powerful. Sharper. Seen.

And yet, beneath that feeling she began to question what Sabine had said: ‘Some who come here find it changes their lives,’ and ‘Every bite carries a promise, and every promise comes with weight.’

The first bite had been only the beginning. Izzie looked up once more at the sign, reading ‘La Promesse Lourde’ to herself. She walked home smiling, already imagining her next visit to her new favourite restaurant, and wondering if they did deliveries.