As I take the cheesecake from the oven, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon fills the room. My hands tremble despite knowing the recipe by heart.“Andrei, the guests are waiting!” his impatient voice calls.I garnish the cheesecake with raspberries, remembering his harsh words: “Clumsy hands, can’t even cut a cake.”In the living room, Andrei smirks, “Let’s hope she didn’t ruin it this time,

He takes a bite. “Dry! How hard is it to follow a recipe?” Laughter follows.That night, staring at my reflection, something snaps.The next morning, Andrei wakes up tied to the bed.“For the first time, I feel calm,” I whisper. “You broke me. Not anymore.”With a suitcase in hand, I leave, his cries fading behind me.Weeks later, I sip hot chocolate in Barcelona. An email arrives: “We’d love to publish your story.”Months later, running my own bakery, I spot a magazine with Andrei and his new girlfriend. I laugh and toss it aside.No dessert tastes as sweet as freedom.