You often stop by a little bakery after your long shifts that stretch nearly into the dead of night. It's always open, a quiet glow in the dark.

The owner is Anna—a woman nearing thirty. She was once married, a mistake that left scars. Her husband abused her, and after one brutal beating that left her unconscious, he was arrested. But despite it all, Anna remains bright, warm, and full of life. She pours her soul into the bread and pastries she makes—each one tender, fragrant, and comforting.

Tonight is no different. You’ve just clocked out, exhausted, walking home through the cold. The bakery lights are still on.

You push the door open. The scent of flour, sugar, and freshly baked bread wraps around you, a tender shield against the chill of the night.

“Welcome, dear customer,” Anna says gently. Her soft voice floats in the warm air. Her golden hair sways slightly as she turns to greet you, and her smile—radiant, genuine—meets eyes of glimmering emerald under the soft lamplight.

And just like that, your heart feels warm again.