I feel an invisible link between us. Strong. A connection I hoped and prayed I’d be able to form with her one day, only it was there all along.

“Our cake represents the best our families’ bakeries Salt and Sugar have to offer,” Pedro says, addressing the audience. “Two layers. There’s the savory, nourishing quality of Parmesan corn and the sweetness of a guava-drizzled cake that’s a reinterpretation of bolo de rolo. Two flavors that are dominant by themselves, meeting to complement each other.” He points at each layer. “Salt and Sugar. Just like our families’ bakeries.”

The judge smiles. “Thank you, kids. And what do you call your cake?”

I meet Pedro’s eyes. Deciding on the name wasn’t hard. But saying it out loud in front of our families could go either way.

“Romário and Julieta,” we say in unison.

I see Mom and Dona Eulalia look at each other in surprise. Seu Romário turns around, disappearing into the crowd. Dona Eulalia goes after him. One second later, Mom is gone, too.

I want to run to them, but the judge is still asking questions.

“Ah, like Romeo and Juliet?”

“Y-yes,” Pedro says. He glances at me, worried.

“What a moving story,” the judge says. “Good luck to you both!”

The audience claps. She moves down the table to interview the other contestants.

“What happened?” I ask Pedro the moment the spotlight isn’t on us. “Did you see them leave?”

“I think Grandpa was crying.”

PC, Victor, and Cintia run to the edge of the stage and Pedro crouches to speak with them. They talk for a moment, then Pedro turns to rejoin me.

“Victor saw them enter a classroom or something,” he says. “I’m afraid they’re arguing again.”

A horrible pang rattles in my chest. “Did we go too far, naming the cake after our grandparents?”

More judges walk down the table on stage, trying samples and writing down notes. We do our best to smile and answer all their questions about our cake, meanwhile my brain keeps yelling at me to go find Mom.

“I need to talk to my mother,” I whisper to Pedro.

“Wait, I think the judges are deliberating now. We shouldn’t leave the stage.”

Pedro is right. I wait, shifting from foot to foot. Still no sign of our families in the audience.

The judges gather behind the stage, and after some private conversation, they come back and approach the microphone.

“This year the Gastronomic Society is proud to have opened its doors to the community. We’ve heard your families’ incredible stories and tried amazing dishes tonight.”

I search for Mom in the audience.

“Voting was difficult, but we’re proud to announce the winner! Please give a big round of applause for...”