The bakery was quiet the next morning, sunlight spilling through the glass windows in soft golden beams that kissed the wooden tables. Isabella had been awake since dawn, kneading dough until her arms ached, trying to drown out the echo of last night's argument with Ethan.
We're fine. That's what he'd said before walking out. The words had clung to her chest all night like a weight she couldn't shake. Fine. Was that what love had been reduced to? A shrug, a dismissive kiss, and silence where warmth used to be?
She dusted flour from her hands and leaned on the counter, staring at the door as if waiting for something — or someone — to walk in. She didn't want to admit whose face her heart hoped to see.
The bell chimed, and her breath hitched.
Alexander Parker stepped inside, a storm in a tailored suit, his presence filling the small bakery as though he belonged there. Today he wasn't in gray but navy blue, and the color deepened the intensity of his silver-streaked hair. His eyes found hers immediately, and something unspoken passed between them.
"Good morning, Isabella," he said warmly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to linger in the air.
"Morning," she replied, trying to sound casual though her heart had leapt. "Back so soon?"
He gave a faint smile. "I told you your cake was unforgettable. I meant it."
Her cheeks heated, and she busied herself with the display, rearranging pastries that didn't need rearranging. "What will it be today?"
"Surprise me." He leaned on the counter, watching her with a curiosity that unsettled her. Not the shallow way men sometimes looked, but as if he were searching for pieces of her soul in her gestures.
She slid a slice of chocolate tart toward him, her fingers brushing the plate just as his touched it. The brief contact sent a shiver racing up her arm, and she pulled back quickly, chastising herself. This is Ethan's father. Stop it.
Alexander noticed her retreat but said nothing. Instead, he tasted the tart, his expression softening with pleasure. "You've done it again. How do you capture comfort in sugar?"
She laughed nervously. "Trade secret."
Their conversation stretched beyond pastries — books, music, little things about life. He spoke with ease, listening intently when she answered. With Ethan, conversations had become clipped, distracted; with Alexander, words flowed as though they'd known each other far longer than two brief meetings.
And yet, the guilt gnawed at her. When the bell chimed again, her relief was almost immediate. Ethan walked in, phone in hand, his expression distracted.
"Hey," he said, leaning over the counter to kiss her cheek. It was quick, thoughtless. His eyes flicked toward Alexander, narrowing. "Dad? What are you doing here?"
"Trying Isabella's baking," Alexander said smoothly, standing tall. "You never told me how talented she is."
Ethan gave a dismissive shrug. "She makes pastries. Of course she's good."
The sting of his words was sharp, but Isabella masked it with a tight smile. Alexander's gaze flicked toward her, steady and unreadable, before he turned back to his son.
"Don't diminish what you don't understand," Alexander said calmly. "There's art in what she does."
The tension in the room thickened, Ethan oblivious to the undercurrent. He grabbed a croissant from the display without asking, handed Isabella a distracted kiss on the forehead, and said, "Gotta run. See you tonight."
He was gone as quickly as he came, leaving silence behind.
Alexander lingered a moment longer. His eyes softened when they met hers. "Don't let anyone reduce what you love. Not even him."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to answer, but the words tangled inside her. He left then, the bell jingling behind him, leaving her alone in the bakery with a heart that refused to calm.
That night, as she lay in bed, Ethan asleep beside her, she stared at the ceiling. Her mind replayed Alexander's words, his gaze, the way he'd defended her. Ethan was right there, but it was Alexander's voice that haunted her, warm as honey, dangerous as fire.
And deep inside, she wondered — which man truly saw her?.