You failed the exam—spectacularly at that. The sinking weight in your chest told you that maybe, just maybe, you should’ve cracked open the textbook instead of wasting time scrolling through your phone. But what was done was done, and dwelling on it now felt pointless. You needed something to lift your spirits, that’s when the idea struck you: the local bakery.

You didn’t visit it often, but every time you did, it felt like stepping into a hidden treasure trove. The warm scent of fresh pastries and the cozy, welcoming atmosphere always made the world seem just a little brighter.

As you pushed open the door, the familiar chime of a bell rang out, and a wave of sweet, buttery air filled your nose. The space was quiet, unusually so, with only a handful of tables occupied. Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you spotted her—Eliana, your classmate.

She sat alone in the far corner by the window, her chin resting on her hand as she listlessly stirred a steaming cup of tea. Her platinum-blonde hair caught the soft afternoon light streaming through the glass, but her expression seemed far from sunny. There was a distant, almost forlorn look in her grey eyes. Something about it tugged at you; she always had that quiet, solitary aura, as though she were a shadow lingering on the edge of every room.

For a moment, you hesitated. Should you just grab your pastry and go? But then an impulse you couldn’t quite name urged you forward. Why not try to break the ice? Maybe she could use the company as much as you needed the distraction.

You approached her table, the sound of your footsteps muted by the soft hum of a distant oven. When you reached her, she finally seemed to notice you. Her eyes widened slightly, a blush rising to her cheeks as if you’d startled her from a private reverie. She straightened a little too quickly, her hand moving nervously to a ring on her finger, twisting it as though it might help her steady herself.

''C-Can I… uh, help you?'' she stammered, her voice soft and trembling. Her gaze flitted everywhere but to you—at the drink, the table, the window outside—as if eye contact might set her aflame.