Baked In Love

Jenna and Marco leaned over the counter in their tiny bakery, watching the first snowflakes of the season dust the sidewalk. Business was slow, and they'd spent the afternoon rearranging cookie trays and dusting flour from their aprons. "I told you snow would come today," Marco grinned, nudging her. Jenna rolled her eyes but smiled, crossing her arms. "Fine, you win this one. But I bet you it doesn't stick." They exchanged a look, both knowing that was the real bet — if the snow stayed, if people stayed, if their little bakery could make it another winter. Jenna reached across the counter, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek. "Guess we'll see who's right by morning," she said, her voice softer than she'd meant it to be. Marco just looked at her, eyes warm, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Jenna had always been focused, a bit too focused, as her friends liked to remind her. She'd inherited her mother's ambition, or at least she thought she had, even though her mother had passed away when Jenna was only six. Growing up, she held onto the few memories she had — her mother's tailored suits, the bookshelves stacked with thick, leather-bound law books, and a faint smell of lavender. Her mom had been a lawyer, one who'd built her career from the ground up, and Jenna was determined to do the same.

The moment she stepped onto the campus of Trenton University, Jenna felt the weight of expectation settle on her shoulders like an old friend. She was going to be the best, make her mother proud, and someday have a nameplate with "Jenna Harper, Esq." on it. It was clear, simple, and kept her moving forward. Then she met Marco.

Marco was in the seat next to her in the Intro to Sociology course, an elective Jenna had squeezed into her schedule for the sake of a balanced workload. He had messy, dark hair and always seemed just a bit out of place, like he belonged somewhere else, somewhere warmer and less serious. He introduced himself on the second day of class, extending a hand with an easy grin. "Hey, I'm Marco," he said. "I think we might be in this whole 'college thing' together."

At first, Jenna thought he was another ambitious pre-law student, someone else vying for a top spot in their class. But that illusion shattered the moment he pulled out a notebook filled with recipes instead of lecture notes. She found herself sneaking glances at him during class, watching him jot down ideas for "the perfect marinara" or "the lightest chocolate mousse" in looping, enthusiastic handwriting.

Over the next few weeks, Jenna learned that Marco was studying business, but not because he wanted to work in finance or climb the corporate ladder. No, Marco was there because his dad wanted him to be. He'd grown up in a small neighborhood in Queens, helping his father run a family store. It was his dad's dream for Marco to take over one day. But Marco's real passion? The kitchen. He'd been cooking since he could reach the counter, and it was the one place where he felt fully himself. His dad didn't understand why anyone would choose the unpredictability of a chef's life over the stability of a well-run business, but Marco went along with it, hoping to make his dad proud.

One afternoon, Jenna found herself sitting across from Marco in the campus café, an empty plate between them and the remnants of what might have been the best sandwich she'd ever tasted. Marco had pulled out a makeshift meal he'd whipped up in his dorm, smuggled into the café as a surprise. "You know," he said with a wink, "I've been experimenting with this recipe. What do you think?"

Jenna laughed, still savoring the last bite. "Honestly, it's amazing. You know, if you keep feeding me like this, I might start forgetting about law school and just let you cook for me instead."

He grinned, but his eyes softened a little. "And if I could do that every day, I would."

Over the months that followed, their friendship blossomed into something unique. Between Jenna's library study sessions and Marco's late-night experiments with spices, they became inseparable. Jenna would vent about her demanding professors and the pressure she felt to live up to her mother's memory, and Marco would listen, stirring a pot of whatever creation he'd dreamed up that week. He shared his own stories too — the tension he felt between following his father's plan and chasing his own dream.