The next morning, karma knocked. Christine called, frantic. A high-society guest had been so impressed with “her” cake that she wanted to commission one for an upcoming charity gala. Christine was desperate — she had no idea how to bake, let alone recreate what I made. I let her squirm for a moment before calmly replying, “Sorry, Christine. I only bake for people who give credit where it’s due.”
In the end, I didn’t need a spotlight speech or public praise — the cake had already spoken for itself. And Christine? She got what she deserved: a taste of embarrassment. I may have baked that cake for love, but karma served the final slice.
