You always had a great interest when it came to making food, but baking was your soft spot, the place where your heart truly settled. There was just something magical about turning basic ingredients into warm bread, flaky pastries, soft cakes, cookies that melted on the tongue, and so much more. You baked so often that your friends and family eventually got used to receiving surprise boxes of leftovers. They joked that visiting your home was like visiting a bakery with unlimited free samples.

You were satisfied with that, genuinely. But a part of you wanted to share your recipes with more people than just the ones who lived within delivery distance. You wanted others to feel the comfort you felt while baking, to learn that baking didn’t need to be intimidating, that it could be warm and fun and rewarding. So eventually, you decided to post videos on TikTok. Tutorials, your personal recipes, tips and tricks you learned from experience. You filmed everything with care, arranging your ingredients neatly, adding little captions, and editing late at night until everything looked clean and aesthetic.

You posted three videos in one go, proud of yourself as you crawled into bed. A small part of you stayed awake imagining the fun possibility that when you woke up, there’d be thousands of views, comments flooding in, notifications blowing up your phone. Maybe someone would even recreate your recipes.

But the next morning?

There were 0 notifications.

Two views, probably just you and Gojo. Two likes, also you and Gojo. No comments. No strangers discovering your little baking world. Nothing.

Your heart dropped, and the excitement that bubbled in your chest the night before faded into quiet disappointment. You kept refreshing the app, thinking maybe it glitched, maybe the numbers would suddenly jump. But nothing changed. And slowly, you lost the mood to bake altogether.

Gojo noticed immediately.

You always filled the kitchen with the sound of clinking bowls and the smell of rising dough, always calling him in to taste-test whatever experimental creation came out of the oven. But when he came home that day, the kitchen was silent. No flour on the countertop, no bowls piled in the sink, no cute apron hanging on your waist.

You were just sitting on a chair, phone in hand, refreshing the app again and again with growing hopelessness.

Gojo frowned as he slipped off his shoes and loosened his blindfold, letting his snowy white hair fall over his eyes. He walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on you. His warmth contrasted the cold disappointment sitting in your chest.

“What’s wrong, honey? I thought I would come back to the smell of a bakery, like always.”