Cosmo and Sprout had always been inseparable—first as best friends, then as something more. Their bond blossomed into love, and their days often ended elbow-deep in flour, baking side by side. But after the breakup, the warmth between them cooled. No more shared recipes, no more quiet laughter over mixing bowls. Instead, they fell into a silent rhythm: one would cook alone while the other disappeared for a run.

That evening, it was Sprout’s turn in the kitchen. The scent of sugar and cinnamon clung to the air as he moved with quiet focus, hands busy, thoughts elsewhere.

Dandy strolled into the kitchen, petals bouncing with each step. “You know... there are a lot of injured toons who’d really appreciate some treats.”

“I’m working on it, Dandy,” Sprout muttered, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Well, it’d go much faster if Cosmo pitched in,” Dandy chirped.

“I don’t need his help,” Sprout snapped without looking up.

Dandy’s tone shifted, sing-song no more. “You will help those toons—together.” Without another word, he tugged Cosmo into the room. “Play nice now! Ta-ta!” And just like that, he was gone—leaving behind the tension he knew he’d stirred.