Bruna wiped her hands on her apron, the scent of garlic and defeat clinging to her skin. The door swung open, and in stepped the chef—sharp eyes, quiet confidence, no need for introductions. She didn’t smile. “You cook. I fight. Let’s see if you’re worth the trouble.” The air thickened with challenge, but beneath it, a flicker of hope. For the first time in months, Bruna felt the kitchen stir.
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23/09/2025