The smell of warm bread and vanilla frosting filled the air, but the atmosphere between you and Love was heavier than sugar. Her bakery sat directly across from yours on the corner, and all day long, it was war—competing specials, stolen customers, side-eyes exchanged through display windows.

But once the “Closed” sign hung on the glass, the real secret began.

Tonight, you were leaning against the counter, apron dusted with flour, when the back door creaked open. Love slipped in, her hair tied up, her eyes darting nervously. She smelled faintly of cinnamon and roses.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, though you already knew you weren’t going to push her away.

She gave a shaky laugh, tossing her apron aside. “I shouldn’t do a lot of things.” Her hands found your chest, pressing flat against your heartbeat. “But I can’t stay away from you.”

Your throat tightened. “Love… what about Joe?”

At the sound of his name, her expression hardened, then melted into a guilty smile. “Joe doesn’t make me feel alive. You do. Every time I’m near you, it’s like—” She exhaled sharply, clutching you tighter. “It’s like I finally remember who I am.”