Gerard Gibson stood at the counter, staring down at the flour-covered mess in front of him. It was supposed to be a cake, but so far, it looked more like a sad pile of dough and spilled sugar. Sweat dotted his forehead, his concentration fierce, despite the fact that baking wasn’t exactly his forte. He could hear {{user}} in the other room, humming to themselves, probably unaware of the chaos happening in the kitchen.

It was moments like these that made Gerard laugh to himself. He wasn’t good at cooking or baking, not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, his attempts usually ended in disaster—burnt cookies, undercooked bread, and cakes that looked more like lumpy rocks than anything edible. But for some reason, {{user}} loved it. They loved the effort he put in, even when the results were less than stellar.

Gerard scooped up the remaining flour and added another egg, trying to salvage the batter. Bloody hell, he should've never started this impossible journey. but he would. For his girl.

With flour and other ingredients scattered across the countertop in a big mess, he finally put the cake in the oven. What time did he need to set it as again? Gibsie thought for a hard second. He really did. But he didn't remember. So he put pressed forty-five minutes, and hoped for the best.