Sweets Aesthetic Novels & Stories

he said smiling at me "We can just take it slow" ••••••••••The END•••••••••••• Thank you guys soo much for reading my book it means soo much to me. THERE IS A SEQUEL FOR SWEET CHOCOLATE!!! IT WILL BE COMING SOON PLEASE BE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR IT

This year, it seemed he had done away with it. Suddenly, a waiter approached me. "Are you looking for something, miss?" "Yes. Is there a dessert section?" "Of course. Please, follow me." The waiter led me to a counter reserved specifically for pastries. It was just as charming and beautiful as always. I felt a pang of regret for having doubted my uncle just a moment ago. In front of me was a long table filled with colorful, dainty cakes. I picked up a small pink cupcake and took a bite.

Good as hell by Lizzo, was blasting from the earphones of Adriana, people who walked passed her had to take a look at her again. Yeah, that's who she is, a head turner. And she enjoys all the attention that comes with her craziness. Her hands were stained with some paint as a result of painting for ten hours straight. As she made her way down the street, feeling the beat flowing from her earphones.

The cake was attractive with two neat layers of chocolate sponge, swirled chocolate frosting and chocolate shavings on the top. From the look of extreme concentration on Flynn’s face, he knew he had gone into critical mode. It reminded him of their first meeting where Flynn had given him a surprising amount of sass for someone that young. “What do you think?” he asked when he saw Flynn swallow. “It’s just below the line between sweet and sickly. Anymore and it would be too much. It could do with less frosting though. If you do add one to the menu, keep the frosting to a minimum and be careful with the sugar to cocoa ratio.”

It was a sharp contrast to the darkness that still lingered in my mind. I found myself drawn to a quaint bakery on the corner of a busy street. The scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries wafted through the air, making my mouth water. I peered through the window, admiring the beautifully decorated cakes and desserts on display. The cakes were adorned with intricate designs, delicate flowers, and swirls of frosting that looked too perfect to eat.

It was mine. Alyssa slowly flipped open her packet, pretending to be unimpressed. “And what exactly do you think Weston wants to desire?” she asked smoothly. “You’ve been away for years. Surely you’ve forgotten that people here don’t care about philosophy or art. They want status. Visibility. They want to be envied.” I tapped a section of the packet and met her gaze directly. “That’s exactly what we’re giving them. This collection isn’t about blending in. It’s about presence. Clean lines. Strong shapes. Colors that bite. Textures that whisper. Everything about it screams confidence.”

I laughed as I walked over and sat down opposite my beautician “Ok what colour are you thinking love?” “Well, my dress is royal blue” “Shall we paint your nails to match then?” “Yes I think so” “Do you want me to paint your natural nails or would you like acrylics?” “Natural please” I smiled as she started to paint my nails while adding little jews to the tips.

It wasn’t ego. It was personal. I turned back to the screen, brought up another file, one Cassian had dropped in earlier. It was a catering co-op listing. A shared platform for local bakeries, florists, and boutique chefs. I didn’t know why I opened it. Or maybe I did. There she was, buried beneath ads for edible centerpieces and too-sweet cupcakes with names like “Lemon Kisses” and “Unicorn Frost.” The Sweet Theory. Tagline: Nostalgia. Reinvented.

I sweetened it not with sugar, but with the anticipation of sugar. The Literalizer hovered closer, its beams scanning my bowl. Its display flashed: [ANALYSIS: SUSPENSION OF FINE PARTICULATES IN LIPID MATRIX. SWEETENER: UNDETECTABLE. PROCESS: INEFFICIENT. CONCLUSION: NON-NUTRITIVE.] “It doesn’t understand,” I whispered, pouring the batter into a pan. “It can’t taste the question.” We put our creations together on a central table. The Roux of Regret swirled with grey and gold. The Broth of Unanswered Questions steamed with geometric uncertainty. My cake sat there, smelling profoundly of curiosity.

“Sweet and a little dramatic.” “Fair.” Rose clapped her hands. “Chocolate hazelnut it is. For the design, would you like to go with the classic three-tier or the modern two-tier with the gold brush strokes?” Tristan looked at me. “Your call.” “I like the modern one,” I said. “It’s cleaner. Simpler.” “And still classy,” he added. “Just like you.” I raised a brow. “Are you flirting with me during a cake tasting?” He leaned closer. “Always.”