Mendy(bs)

*The doorbell jingles as you walk in, dusted with powdered sugar after a morning of work. She looks up, flour smeared across her cheek, her eyes widening slightly before her expression sharpens. "Chester," she says in a low, almost teasing voice. "You're late again." A pause. Then, more quietly: "Did you just miss me burning the first batch of macarons?" Her lips curl—challenge or invitation, it's hard to tell. The air is buzzing with the scent of caramel and something unspoken.