His words hit me right in the chest, and I have to blink back sudden tears.
"Thank you for watching," I manage. "And remember—don't believe everything you read on the internet."
I end the stream and immediately check the metrics. Over six thousand viewers at peak, thousands of positive comments, and the harsh early criticism buried under an avalanche of support.
"We did it," I breathe.
Korgan pulls me into his arms, and this time, there are no cameras capturing it. Just us, flour-dusted and triumphant, holding each other in a kitchen that smells like rising bread and possibility.
"We did," he agrees, and when he kisses me, it tastes like hope.
The bread emerges from the oven golden and perfect, crackling as it cools. I post a quick photo to Instagram—From livestream to loaf, thanks for baking with us—and the notifications explode immediately.
Maya calls before I can even set the phone down.
"You brilliant, gorgeous genius." Her voice is pure adrenaline. "Do you know what you just did?"
"Made bread?"
"You made magic. Trinity, the bakery's Instagram gained three thousand followers in the last hour. People are asking if we ship nationwide. Someone in California wants to license your grandmother's recipe for a cookbook."
I lean against the counter, watching Korgan examine the cooling loaves with scientific intensity. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. And the trolls? They're getting ratio'd into oblivion. People are defending you left and right." She pauses. "You turned a PR nightmare into a love story people actually want to root for."
Korgan glances up at me, one eyebrow raised in question. I mouthit's workingand his shoulders drop with visible relief.
"I have to go," Maya continues. "Channel Seven wants an interview, and I need to draft talking points before they try to spin this into?—"
"No interviews."
"What?"
"Not yet. Let the livestream speak for itself." I watch Korgan gently tap the bottom of a loaf, listening to the hollow sound. "We don't need to explain ourselves to anyone else right now."
Maya's calm for a beat. "You really care about him."
"Yeah. I really do."
"Then I'll keep the media vultures at bay. But Trinity? Eventually you're going to have to figure out what happens when the show ends."
She hangs up before I can respond, leaving me with that particular brand of anxiety only best friends can provoke. Whatdoeshappen when the show ends? When there are no more cameras, no more challenges, no more manufactured romance?
"Everything alright?" Korgan's moved closer without me noticing.
"Fine. Great, actually. Maya says we're viral in a good way now."
"Viral." He tests the word. "Like a plague?"
"More like... wildfire. Spreading fast, hard to control, but warm."
He considers this while slicing into one of the loaves. Steam rises in lazy curls. "May I?"
"Of course. You helped make it."
He tears off a piece, chews thoughtfully. His eyes close.
"Good?" I ask.
