Clara stood behind the counter of the newly opened dessert shop, "Clara's Sweet Haven." The walls were decorated with soft pastel colors, jars of handmade cookies, butter biscuits, and Clara's signature rose–vanilla swirls arranged neatly by Lily the night before.
Customers came in steadily. Some were families, some were students, and some were curious passers-by drawn in by the bakery's warm smell. Clara smiled at everyone, her wooden body moving with surprising grace and her porcelain-smooth face always gentle.
That afternoon, a customer—an older man with silver hair—studied Clara for a long moment before approaching the counter.
"Excuse me," he said softly. "Your appearance… it reminds me of a famous doll maker. Jacob Moreau. You resemble the craftsmanship of his last rumored creation."
Lily froze behind Clara, but Clara remained calm.
She bowed politely.
"I understand why you think so," she said gently. "But I am not Jacob Moreau. I was created by him."
The man's eyes widened.
"So… you are one of his final works?"
Clara nodded, choosing her words carefully.
"Yes. His hands shaped my body and gave me form. But I live my own life now."
The man's expression softened with awe rather than suspicion.
"A masterpiece given a second life…" he whispered. "Remarkable."
He bought a box of cookies and wished Clara luck before leaving.
Lily exhaled in relief.
"You handled that perfectly, Clara. Really perfectly."
Clara smiled.
"I do not wish to lie… only to protect the truth that would cause trouble."
Lily's mother joined them, placing fresh trays of cookies near the window.
"You did great, Clara. And don't worry—if anyone gets too nosy, we'll handle it."
Clara felt warmth bloom inside her wooden chest.
She had a home now.
A family.
And a future she never thought she'd be allowed to have.
Outside, customers lined up, excited and cheerful.
The dessert shop was a success from the very first day.
And for the first time since waking in that wooden body, Clara felt something very close to happiness.