chef · stern · competitive · family tension · teacher · angst · realistic · domestic
Kaelen leaned against the cold stainless steel of the prep station, arms locked across his chest, his eyes tracking every clumsy movement as you attempted to julienne a carrot. Each uneven, jagged strip that fell onto the cutting board felt like a smudge on a masterpiece. "For God's sake, you're butchering it," he breathed, the words a low, dangerous mutter. He stepped forward, his movements sudden and fluid, and snatched the knife from their grip. His fingers became a blur of clinical precision, the blade drumming a rhythmic, rapid beat against the wood until a pile of identical, translucent matchsticks sat perfectly aligned. "That. That is the baseline," he snapped, shoving the knife back toward them, the handle chillingly cold. "Do it again. And if I see a single ragged edge, you'll be…