Kent sat in the chateau trailer, his blueprints spread out on the table, but he wasn't looking at them.
His mind was somewhere else, stuck on Gaesha. It was two days since the gala, and she was gone.
No calls, no visits, no little notes slipped under his door.
He'd found her last one yesterday—Mark had handed it to him, saying, "Found this by the gate."
Kent read it, and his stomach dropped like a stone. "You deserve perfection, and I'm a mess. I'm sorry. —Gaesha."
The words stung every time he looked at them, written in her neat, loopy handwriting on a scrap of paper.
"What's this mean?" he muttered, holding the note in his hands.
The paper felt thin, like it might tear if he gripped it too hard.
He'd called her phone over and over—no answer, just her cheerful voicemail that made his chest ache.
He'd gone to her bakery, hoping to see her behind the counter, but the sign said "Closed," and the windows were dark.
She was hiding from him, and he didn't know why. It hurt, like a knot in his gut that wouldn't go away.
Mark walked into the trailer, carrying two cups of coffee. The smell filled the small space, warm and bitter.
"Hey," he said, setting one cup in front of Kent. "You look lost, man."
"I am," Kent said, his voice low. He didn't look up, just kept staring at the note. "Gaesha's gone."
"Gone?" Mark said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "What do you mean, gone?"
"This," Kent said, sliding the note across the table. "She left it. Then nothing. No calls, no nothing."
Mark picked up the note and read it, his eyebrows going up.
"Ouch," he said, wincing. "She's dumping you?"
"No," Kent said, shaking his head. "We're not… official. We weren't dating, not really. But she's done. She's just… gone."
His voice cracked a bit, and he hated it. He didn't want to sound weak, but he felt it.
"Why?" Mark asked, leaning back in his chair. "What happened? The gala?"
"Maybe," Kent said, rubbing his face with his hands. "Claire was there. She was mean. Called Gaesha provincial, like she was some small-town nobody."
"That witch," Mark said, his voice sharp. "Gaesha's great. She's got that smile, those pastries. She's way better than Claire."
"I know," Kent said, his chest tight. "But Gaesha doesn't. She thinks she's not good enough."
"She's scared," Mark said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Claire got to her. Made her feel small."
"Yes," Kent said, his hands clenching. "And I didn't stop it. I should've done more."
"You tried," Mark said, setting his cup down. "You stood up for her, right? I saw you arguing with Claire."
"Not enough," Kent said, his voice heavy. "She's gone now. Because I didn't do enough."
He felt like he'd failed her, like he'd let her slip away.
"Go get her," Mark said, leaning forward. "The bakery's not far. You know where she is."
"I did," Kent said, slumping in his chair. "I went yesterday. It was closed. She won't answer her phone. She won't talk to me."
He felt helpless, and he hated it. He wasn't used to feeling this way.
Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"She's hurt," he said. "Claire's words cut deep. Give her some time to heal."
"No," Kent said, shaking his head. "I need her now. I can't wait."
The thought of waiting made his stomach twist. He missed her too much—her laugh, her teasing, the way she made him feel less grumpy.
He reached for his box—the little wooden one where he kept her notes.
He opened it and spread them out on the table, one by one. Croissant, muffin, cookie, tart, and now this sad one.
Each note was written in her handwriting, full of warmth.
"She was happy," he said, touching the muffin note. "Look at these. She was happy with me."
"Yeah," Mark said, picking up the cookie note. "All these say 'Grumpy Kent.' She liked you, man. She thought you were worth writing to."
"She does," Kent said, then paused. "Did. I don't know anymore."
His heart sank at the thought that she might not feel the same now.
"She does," Mark said, his voice firm. "This note? It's fear, not hate. She's scared, not done with you."
"What went wrong?" Kent asked, looking at Mark. "She seemed happy when I took her home. I saw it in her eyes."
"Claire," Mark said, his face darkening. "She's poison. Always has been."
"Yes," Kent said, his jaw tight. "I hate her."
The anger bubbled up, hot and sharp, but it didn't help. It didn't bring Gaesha back.
"Good," Mark said. "Fight for Gaesha. Show her she's worth it."
"How?" Kent said, his voice soft. "She won't see me. I don't know what to do."
He felt lost, like he was stuck in a maze with no way out.
"Find a way," Mark said, shrugging. "You're smart, Kent. You'll figure it out."
Kent stared at the notes, his fingers tracing the words.
"Hey, Grumpy," he read from the croissant note. "Sweeten your day."
He could almost hear her voice, teasing and warm. He missed her laugh, the way she'd poke fun at him, the way she made everything better.
"She's wrong," Ken said, his voice quiet. "She's not a mess. She's amazing."
"She thinks she is," Mark said, leaning back. "You gotta prove she's not. Show her she's enough."
Kent nodded slowly, his heart heavy but determined.
"I will," he said. "Somehow."
He didn't know how yet, but he wasn't giving up.
That night, Kent sat in his hotel room, the little wooden box open on the desk.
The room was quiet, just the hum of the air conditioner and the faint sound of cars outside.
The notes were spread out in front of him, each one a piece of Gaesha.
He felt like he was drowning in his thoughts, missing her so much it hurt. His sister Lily called, her name lighting up his phone screen.
"Hey," she said when he answered. "You sound off. What's wrong?"
"Gaesha's gone," Kent said, his voice flat. "She left a note and disappeared."
"What?" Lily said, her voice rising. "The baker girl? The one with the awesome tarts? Why?"
"She thinks she's not good enough," Kent said, staring at the note. "Claire messed her up at the gala. Said mean things."
"That ex of yours?" Lily said, groaning. "Ugh, she's the worst. What's the note say?"
"'You deserve perfection, and I'm a mess,'" Kent read, his voice catching. "She's wrong, Lily. She's so wrong."
"Yeah," Lily said, her voice soft. "She's perfect for you, Kent. You light up when you talk about her."
"I know," Kent said, his chest aching. "I miss her. I miss her so much."
Saying it out loud made it feel real, and it hurt.
"You miss her?" Lily said, teasing now. "Big words, Kent! That's huge for you!"
"Yes," Kent said, swallowing hard. "She's… everything. She makes me happy."
"Aw," Lily said, her voice warm. "You love her, don't you?"
"No," Kent said, then paused. "Maybe. I don't know."
The word felt big, scary, but it fit. It scared him to think it.
"You do," Lily said, laughing. "You're in love, big brother. Go tell her."
"She won't talk," Kent said, his voice breaking. "I tried. I called. I went to the bakery. She's gone."
"Try harder," Lily said, her voice firm. "She's worth it, Kent. You know she is."
"Yes," Kent said, his eyes on the notes. "She is."
He meant it. Gaesha was worth everything.
He hung up, the room quiet again. He stared at the notes, his fingers brushing over them.
"What went wrong?" he said to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "We were good. We were so good."
He remembered the gala, her smile, the way she'd kissed him back. It had felt perfect, like they were meant to be.
He picked up the tart note. "Sweeten your day," he read, his throat tight. "She did. Every single time."
Her notes, her pastries, her laugh—they'd made his days brighter, better.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it. Claire.
"Dinner?" her text said, like nothing had happened.
"No," Kent typed back, his fingers fast. "Leave me alone."
He hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed. "Good," he said to himself. "She's done."
He was done with Claire, with her cruel words and her games.
He looked at Gaesha's last note again, the sad one.
"You're not a mess," he said, his voice soft but sure. "I'm a mess without you."
The words felt true, like they'd been hiding in his heart all along.
He didn't sleep that night. He sat there, the box open, the notes spread out. His mind was a storm—confused, sad, missing her.
Gaesha had pulled away, scared and hurt, and he didn't know how to pull her back. But he would try. He had to.
She was worth it—her smile, her warmth, her heart. He'd find a way to show her she wasn't a mess. He'd show her she was everything. Somehow.