Chapter 24: Off Menu

Chiara rarely took days off.

Not because she couldn't — because she didn't know what to do with them.

But Sydney had insisted.

"You're gonna burn out if you don't let yourself breathe, Chi."

So now, here they were. Midday. No knives. No shouting. Just sun and stalls and the scent of grilled corn somewhere in the distance.

They wandered the weekend market like two tourists in their own city.

Chiara held a canvas tote half-filled with citrus and herbs she didn't need.

Sydney sampled local honey off a wooden stick. "Tastes like ambition."

Chiara smirked. "And yours always stings a little."

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡

They found a quiet rooftop patio near the train tracks — a place Chiara used to visit with Mikey. The chairs wobbled. The view was perfect.

Sydney popped open two beers from the vendor downstairs. They clinked bottles like women who didn't toast often but knew when to mark a moment.

They sipped.

The silence was comfortable.

Until Sydney broke it.

"You ever feel like you're shrinking to fit everyone else's kitchen?"

Chiara didn't answer right away.

Then: "Every day I'm not cooking the way I know I can."

Sydney nodded slowly. "You're calm. Like scary calm. I thought it was just your vibe. But now I think you're holding it all down so no one else blows up."

Chiara smiled. It was sad. Honest. "That's my job."

"No, it's not," Sydney said, serious now. "You deserve more than being everyone's emotional firewall."

Chiara stared at the skyline.

"I used to think I had to choose. Stability or passion. Family or freedom. I never thought I could have both."

"You can," Sydney said quietly. "But you have to stop protecting everyone else's dream and start protecting your own."

That stuck.

Hard.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡

Later, as they walked back through the alleys toward The Bear, Chiara asked:

"If I said I wanted to open something with you... would you believe me?"

Sydney looked over. "That depends. Would it have dessert?"

Chiara grinned. "Only if it's messy."

Sydney extended a pinky.

Chiara linked it.

Deal.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡

Chiara hadn't planned on looping back.

But walking with Sydney had cracked something open — a kind of ache that citrus and sunlight couldn't quite fix. So she stopped by. Just for a minute.

She didn't go inside. Just leaned against the brick wall by the back door, eyes closed, breathing in the late-afternoon air that smelled like burnt oil and basil.

"You ever actually stay away when you say you will?"

Chiara cracked an eye open. Richie stood a few feet away, holding a takeout container like a peace offering.

"Didn't want to come in," she said. "Just wanted to... orbit."

He handed her the container. "Empanadas. From that stand next to the bike shop. They had a 'Swifties get 10% off' sign."

Chiara smirked. "Tell me you used that."

"Duh. Told them I cried during All Too Well and they gave me an extra one."

She laughed — too loudly, too honestly. "You're such a sap."

"And you're not?"

They sat on upside-down buckets, passing bites back and forth. A rhythm between them now — not quite friendship, not quite family. Something liminal. Something warm.

After a moment, Richie asked, "You good?"

Chiara shrugged. "Took the day off. Bought herbs I don't need. Talked to Syd about dreams I forgot I had. Then wandered back here like a ghost."

Richie nodded slowly. "You know, Mikey used to do that. Just... show up. On his days off. Said he didn't trust the building not to miss him."

Chiara smiled faintly. "Sounds familiar."

A silence fell — but not an empty one.

Then, Richie cleared his throat. "So... I've been working on a playlist for family meal. Theme's 'healing from intergenerational trauma but make it pop.'"

Chiara raised an eyebrow. "So Taylor Swift."

"Exactly."

He pulled out his phone, thumbed through his list. "We're starting with The Archer, obviously. Then Clean. Maybe Daylight."

Chiara nodded solemnly. "But only if Nothing New makes the cut."

Richie gasped. "Phoebe Bridgers version? C'mon, Chi. Don't do me like that."

They broke into mock debate again — ranking bridges, assigning zodiac signs to each album, arguing whether Style or Cruel Summer was the superior scream-sing track.

And in that moment — beneath the hum of the city and the clang of unseen kitchen pans — it was clear:

This was the family they'd built. Messy. Mouthy. Healing. Together.

Richie handed her the last empanada. "You're allowed to rest, you know."

Chiara took it. "So are you."

He tapped her shoe with his. "Then maybe we both suck at it."

She bumped him back. "At least we're consistent."

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡

END OF CHAPTER 24

Hope you liked this chapter — From my heart to the line, thanks for reading. See you at the next service.

— Liz