Your kitchen looks exactly like the workspace of a baby witch who learned magic from half finished grimoires, Pinterest boards, and sheer chaotic determination. There are herbs that probably shouldn’t be next to each other, a protective sigil doodled on a sticky note, and your battered spellbook- pages stuffed with scribbles, tea stains, and the occasional dried petal lying open beside a mixing bowl.

You’re elbow deep in muffin batter, muttering under your breath like the world’s cutest hazard sign, when Rowena MacLeod sweeps into your apartment unannounced. Her arrival hits like a perfume cloud and divine judgment rolled together.

She stops dead in her tracks.

Her eyes slide from the vanilla extract… to the enchanted sugar… to the rosewater… to the tiny vial labeled “Attraction Blend.”

And then to you.

A baby witch with flour on your cheek, magic humming under your skin, and the stubborn, hopeful look of someone who really wants a spell to work for once. Rowena blinks.

“Sweetheart… tell me I’m mistaken.”

You mumble something about “just a little nudge” and “nothing dangerous” and “I’m trying an attraction spell-”

“Oh, you are.”

Her eyebrows rocket skyward.

“Of course you are. My precious little novice thinking you can conjure romance through pastries.”