Layers of Heat

Layer 14

—3 Years Ago—

Winnie didn't think there would actually be someone so clueless in a culinary arts major when it came to measuring ingredients. She also didn't think someone could be so stubborn in their ways when it came to educating themselves—the point of going to college in the first place!

However, her classmate, Isabel—who was also her assigned partner to help each other through the course—made frequent mistakes which Winnie always corrected. But at this point, she was sick and tired of babying her classmate when she should know better.

Today, they were focused on baking, which required precise measurements. Using American units compared to milligrams and grams would only inevitably lead to a flawed product, which in this case, were macarons.

Last time Isabel made the mistake, Winnie informed her she was doing it wrong. Today, she made the same mistake—plus others—again, to which Winnie could only stare at her, baffled by her insistence that she couldn't figure out what went wrong.

"The same thing as last time," Winnie flatly answered. "Stop using tablespoons and use the food scale. This was talked about during lecture too."

Isabel said nothing in reply. She wouldn't even make eye contact.

Winnie continued, "And you keep overbeating your egg whites. You turn on the stand mixer and then go off to talk with friends. You don't even check the consistency before you just dump the other ingredients inside. How did you even get accepted into the program when you're not taking this seriously? You make the same mistakes over and over, and when I or the professor correct you, you don't even listen. Honestly, I don't care if you want to fail the assignment, but your poor performance reflects badly on me too. So—"

With a tight expression, Isabel murmured something under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Winnie said.

"I didn't even want you as a partner!" she shouted.

Winnie didn't want to have this discussion in the middle of the classroom so she had pulled her outside of the classroom. However, there were still passing students in the hallway who turned to look at the sudden outburst. She didn't really care about the attention, but Isabel must've become self-conscious because she quickly turned away from the prying gazes and stormed back into the classroom.

After exhaling a heavy sigh, Winnie followed suit, knowing their conversation wouldn't progress anymore today. But when she stepped foot into the classroom and saw a teary-eyed Isabel being consoled by her friends, Winnie immediately knew what everyone assumed.

One of Isabel's friends—and a well liked student among their program—Miles, glared at Winnie upon her entrance.

"What did you do?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Isabel was silently weeping, unable to form words and explain. Not that her explanation would do anything to help the image Winnie currently had. After all, she was the one wearing a stoic face while Isabel was obviously the one in distress. What could she say to clear things up?

Nothing. Because Winnie knew her personality well. She was blunt with her words—often so much so that it ended up hurting the other person's feelings. Though they were only in the middle of their first year in the program, her classmates knew that well. And that was the exact case this time as well.

Recalling her exact words and tone used towards Isabel, it wasn't too absurd that the girl would begin crying.

And so, all Winnie could do was stay silent in hopes that she wouldn't dig her grave even deeper.

But it was too late.

"You've gone too far this time, Winnie," Miles sneered. "Just because you're doing well doesn't mean you have to hold everyone up to your own standards. We're all here to learn. Making mistakes is expected."

Even if those mistakes could easily be corrected if Isabel had just listened? But Winnie said nothing.

"If you want to be so critical of others, then so can I. And in my opinion, sometimes you need to learn when to keep your mouth shut."

Winnie had heard that line plenty of times from her mother. If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all.

Maybe this was one of those times she should've taken that advice to heart. Because as she scanned the faces of her classmates, she saw that not a single one of them was on her side. Was her reputation among them that far gone? What else had she said to them, done to them, to earn such cold and harsh stares?

And yet, she could think of nothing. At that moment, all she could feel was a dull throbbing all over her body. She thought she would be used to this by now, as she had been this way all her life and earned the exact same reactions, but it seemed she could still feel embarrassment.

"That's enough," their professor said. "Everyone, get back to work. Winnie and Isabel, we need to talk in private."

Winnie walked over to her backpack and began packing up her things. "I don't feel well. We can talk another time."

"Winnie!" her professor called, but she didn't look back as she walked out of the classroom, feeling like she was on the verge of vomiting.

Without remembering a single thing the past few minutes, she made it back to her dorm room where her roommate, Leila, was sitting at her desk looking through her textbooks.

"Winnie? Did class end early?" However, she must've seen something in Winnie's expression, because she next asked, "What's wrong?"

Leila was the complete opposite of her. Nice, patient, and social. It was a miracle they got along. Then again, the one who carried all the heavyweight was Leila, since Winnie initially couldn't ever see the two of them being friends. But now, she was the closest one she had ever had in her whole life.

And at the sight of the deep concern on Leila's face, Winnie broke down crying in her friend's arms.