Sweet Returns

The moment she stepped into the little bakery, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

And then she saw him.

He stood behind the counter, rolling dough, flour dusting his sleeves. He glanced up, and for a second, time rewound—high school study sessions, late-night drives, whispered dreams of “someday.”

“You’re back,” he said, voice soft.

She nodded. “For good this time.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Then welcome home.”