Heidi Kim

It has been a month since Vina and I have been working together. The heat of the kitchen was relentless, but it wasn’t just the oven that was burning today. No, this time it was the tension between Vina and me. The kind of heat that makes the air feel thick and suffocating. It had been days since our last argument, and I was still stewing over her cocky attitude. Every time I saw her, I couldn’t help but think about how her presence felt like an invasion, a disruption in the delicate balance I’d worked so hard to create. But I had to keep going. Flavium’s reputation depended on it, and so did my own.

Today, though? Well, today was one of those days where I wish it hadn’t happened.

I was hunched over the prep table, chopping herbs, my focus sharp, when the bell above the kitchen door rang. I thought it was a new order coming in, but it wasn’t. I glanced up to see one of the servers, Maria, rushing into the kitchen, her face pale.

“Chef, we’ve got a problem!” she said, barely able to catch her breath.

My stomach clenched, a warning shot of anxiety already pulsing through me. “What happened?”

“It’s Table 7… they’re in trouble,” Maria replied, her voice shaking. “They said someone had an allergic reaction… to shrimp.”

I felt my chest tighten. Shrimp? We haven’t served shrimp today. Who freaking put shrimp on the dish that wasn’t supposed to be in it? I stood up, ready to move, but then I saw Vina by the grill, flipping a pan-fried dish with an air of indifference.

I remember seeing her adding shrimp to one of the specials earlier that day, without informing anyone, and it wasn’t on the ticket. I hadn’t seen the final dish before it went out, too focused on the other orders. Shit.

A knot tightened in my stomach. This couldn’t be happening.

I followed Maria out to the dining area, my mind racing. I found the customer at Table 7, clutching her throat, her face swelling up. The waiter was standing by, frozen, unsure of what to do. The scene was chaotic, but the worst part was that I couldn’t ignore the growing realization that the mistake in the kitchen was going to be my fault in the end.

I rushed over to the table. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I asked, my voice gentle but filled with panic.

The woman could barely speak, her lips trembling. “Shrimp… I didn’t ask for shrimp… I’m allergic… please…”

“Okay, don’t panic, Ma’am, I have an EpiPen here,” I said, trying to remain calm despite the rising panic inside me. Luckily, the restaurant had an emergency EpiPen whenever we had a customer with an allergic reaction. We barely get to use it because we always double-check the ingredients and always ask the customer about their specific allergy. I pulled out the EpiPen from my coat and injected it into the customer’s thigh. Minutes later, she finally calmed down and could breathe again.

“Call an ambulance, now,” I instructed the waiter. He scrambled off, but the situation was far from over. The moment the paramedics arrived and escorted the woman to the hospital, I went back to the kitchen. My hands were shaking as I scrubbed my face. What the hell just happened?

It didn’t take long before Mr. Laurent was storming into the kitchen, his expression thunderous.

“What happened?!” he shouted.

I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my nerves. “A customer had an allergic reaction… to shrimp.”

He glared at me. “How did that happen? This is supposed to be a professional kitchen, Heidi. You should’ve double-checked the order. This is a disaster.”

I wanted to argue, to explain that it wasn’t my mistake, but before I could say anything, Vina appeared from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one look at the tension in the room, and her smirk slid into place like a mask.

“Mr. Laurent, Heidi didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said, her voice sweet like honey, but I could hear the edge of something underneath. Something I didn’t like. “I-It was my fault, actually. I added the shrimp to the dish last minute without checking the ticket. I didn’t know the customer was allergic.”

I should’ve been grateful she admitted it, but I could feel my heart sink as Mr. Laurent’s eyes turned on me, his gaze sharp and unforgiving.

“Really?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you didn’t think to check that order again, Heidi? This is your kitchen. You’re supposed to oversee everything.”

I felt the words cut into me like knives. “But Mr. Laurent, Vina—”

“I don’t care who did it,” he interrupted me, raising a hand. “You’re the head chef, Heidi. You should’ve known better than to send the order without checking it.”

I was stunned into silence. I could feel my pulse roaring in my ears. How could he be blaming me for this? How could he not see that Vina had made the mistake? She admitted it!

I opened my mouth to speak, but Vina cut me off, her voice shaking with a mixture of frustration and determination. “Mr. Laurent, I’m sure Heidi was busy and didn’t get a chance to double-check the order. Please don’t put the blame all on her; I’m at fault too,” she said, her eyes briefly flickering to me before looking down. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

Mr. Laurent's face softened just a bit, his anger still evident, but at least it seemed directed elsewhere for the moment. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I’ll take care of the customer complaint, but next time, Heidi, I need you to be more diligent.”

The words stung. I couldn’t believe it. I had double-checked every detail, every order. I followed the recipe in every detail, yet no matter what I said or how much I explained, he still chose to blame me. The weight of it all settled on my shoulders, suffocating. I opened my mouth to protest, but then I heard Vina’s voice again, almost desperately.

“I’m so sorry, Heidi. I didn’t mean to add the shrimp, I was just... leveling up the recipe, you know?” Her voice trembled, but I could see the guilt in her eyes. “It was my mistake.”

“If you’d just listened and stuck to the recipe, this wouldn’t have happened!” My voice came out sharper than I intended, frustration bubbling over.

“I didn’t know, okay?” she snapped back, her voice tinged with defensiveness. “I get it, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“You should be! Thanks to you, I just got an earful from Mr. Laurent over an accident I didn’t even cause!”

“Look, I’ll repay for the damage, if Mr. Laurent will deduct your salary because of it, I’ll give my half to you.” Does she really think that money can repay everything that happened today?

“You think this is about my salary?” I exclaimed. “You think money will fix this?” Her face flushed, not knowing what to say. “This is my kitchen, Vina. My responsibility. I expect nothing less than perfection, and right now, all I see is you messing things up.”

“Hey! I may be new, but I’ve been trying my best, okay!” Vina shot back, her voice rising.

“Trying your best? You’ve been making things worse!” My voice cracked as I gestured at the chaos around us. “You can’t stick to the recipe, you get too caught up in your own world, and you bring in your fans like it’s some kind of show. You act like you’re the star of this place!” I didn’t even try to control myself. I just can’t handle any more mishaps. I looked at her shocked look, not knowing how to respond next.

Then, after a tense pause, she looked me dead in the eye and asked, “Heidi… Are you jealous of me?”

“What? No! What are you talking about?” I stumbled over my words, caught off guard.

“You’re always so determined to keep me in my place,” Vina continued, her voice low but unwavering. “It’s like you don’t want me to outshine you.”

“It’s not about that, Vina!” I snapped, the weight of my own frustration making me defensive. “It’s about keeping everything in order and in its place! I am in charge of this kitchen, not you! You can’t just simply do whatever pleases you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of defiance in her. “But you’re so stuck on tradition. Why can’t we experiment? Why can’t we try something new?”

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “As long as I’m the head chef, we follow what I say and what I instruct you to do. No exceptions, no recommendations. We stick to the rules.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

“So much for being the daughter of a famous chef, huh? Can’t even follow the simplest kitchen rules.” Shit, I didn’t mean to say that.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Her voice was cold, dripping with venom.

“I said, you only got here because of your father’s name. You don’t have any real talent.”

Before I could process it, she slapped me across the face, her hand trembling as tears welled in her eyes.

“You don’t get to talk about me like that,” she choked out. “I work just as hard as you, Heidi. I’m not some rich kid who gets everything handed to her. You don’t understand what it’s like, how hard I’ve been trying to impress you!”

She stormed out of the kitchen; other chefs followed behind while I went to the spare room to cool myself.

I know what I said was wrong, but it was all too much. Her being here at Flavium felt like an invasion at first, a reminder of the looming shadow of her father’s reputation. And yet, over time, I’d started to see her beyond that. But tonight, I had let my frustration speak for me, cutting deeper than I ever intended.