The last customer had left, the bell above the door jingling softly as it closed behind them. The warm glow of the bakery lights wrapped the room in a cozy embrace, highlighting the golden crusts of bread, the delicate sheen on tarts, and the faint dusting of flour on the counter. The quiet felt almost sacred after a day of clattering trays and bustling footsteps.
Elin leaned against the counter, her palms pressing into the worn wood as she wiped her hands on her apron. The comforting exhaustion of a full day of baking settled in her bones, the kind that made muscles ache pleasantly and the heart feel quietly satisfied. She was just about to start tidying up when the door opened again.
Axton.
He stood in the doorway, a little sheepish, the soft light catching the sharp angles of his face. His tall frame cast long, familiar shadows across the floor. "I hope I'm not disturbing closing," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of hesitation she hadn't heard before.
Elin shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Not at all. I was just... finishing up."
He stepped inside and hung his jacket on the coat rack with an almost reverent care, like it had been a fragile object. "You always seem so calm at the end of the day," he said, glancing around the bakery. "I don't know how you do it."
She shrugged, pouring herself a small cup of tea, the faint steam curling in the warm light. "Routine helps," she murmured. "And... it's comforting, being surrounded by things you love." She gestured vaguely at the shelves of bread, the jars of jam, the little chalkboard menu she had scribbled on that morning.
He took the cup from her hands, cradling it as if it were precious, and lifted it to his lips. The warmth seeped into him slowly, and he closed his eyes briefly. "I get it," he said, voice soft. "I'm usually rushing from one thing to another. Rarely... get a moment like this."
Elin tilted her head, curious. "Moments like this?"
He looked around, the faintest smile playing on his lips. "Quiet. No emails. No calls. No deadlines hanging over me like storm clouds. Just... people enjoying the little things. And this," he said, nodding toward her, "feels... real. Grounded."
Her chest warmed unexpectedly. Hearing him articulate it so plainly made her heart flutter in ways she wasn't ready to analyse. "I guess that's why I love baking," she said softly, her voice almost drowned by the quiet hum of the espresso machine cooling down. "It's simple, but it matters. People notice it, even if they don't always say it."
He leaned slightly closer, resting an elbow on the counter, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, thoughtful smile. "I notice," he said quietly, and the honesty in his tone made her feel exposed and warm all at once.
A comfortable silence settled between them. He sipped his tea, his green eyes tracing the lines of her face, the way her hair had escaped its pins and curled slightly at the nape of her neck. She moved around, tidying the leftover pastries, but her movements felt lighter somehow, as if his presence softened the usual labour of closing.
"I didn't think a bakery could feel like... a pause button," he added after a moment, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to her.
Elin chuckled softly, shaking her head. "A pause button? That's... not a phrase I hear every day."
He glanced up at her, a glint of mischief in his tired eyes. "I've never been here before. It's new. Different. And new things have a way of staying in your head."
She froze for a heartbeat, her hands stilling on the counter. "Is that... good or bad?" she asked, a trace of nervousness threading her voice.
"Good," he said immediately. "Very good."
And then, just as she opened her mouth to respond, her stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the intimate tension like a soft drumbeat in a cathedral.
Axton blinked, then laughed, a low, rich sound that made the quiet bakery feel even warmer. "Guess it's time for dinner?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.
Elin laughed along, shaking her head. "I think it's more like... late-night comfort food, if we're being honest."
He grinned. "Then maybe you can share some of your baking secrets with me tonight. I promise I won't drool."
"You say that now," she muttered, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway, "but that remains to be seen."
The room settled into a soft glow, the kind that made hearts beat a little faster, breaths a little shallower. And as they sat there, sipping tea and sharing quiet laughter, a question lingered between them, unspoken but palpable: why did the world feel so different when it was just the two of them in a little bakery on a quiet street in Singapore?
Axton set his tea down, stretching slightly as he pushed away from the counter. "I'll be right back," he said, his voice casual, though there was a subtle urgency in his movements.
Elin raised an eyebrow. "Back? Where are you going at this hour?"
He gave her a lopsided grin, the kind that made it impossible to read him fully. "Just a quick run. Ten minutes tops."
"You're not leaving me alone in the bakery, are you?" she asked, a hint of mock indignation in her tone.
"Of course not," he said, waving a hand in a lazy dismissal. "I'm the one who's starving. Can't have a hungry man wandering the streets."
Elin tilted her head, skeptical. "Uh-huh. Hungry, right."
He slung his jacket over his shoulder and moved toward the door, glancing back. "Trust me. I'll be back before you can finish wiping that counter. Don't go falling asleep on me, okay?"
Her lips twitched, resisting the urge to tell him she probably would if he wasn't there. "Fine," she said, shaking her head. "Ten minutes. That's your promise."
Axton's green eyes sparkled as he stepped into the cool night air, the city lights reflecting off the slick pavements. He moved with brisk efficiency, weaving through the quiet streets until the neon sign of 7 Eleven came into view. The fluorescent lights inside flickered slightly, casting a sterile glow over the rows of snacks and instant meals.
He navigated the aisles quickly, grabbing two cups of Maggi ramen noodles, two tuna mayo onigiri, a packet of hanjuku eggs, and a few extra snacks—salted peanuts, a small chocolate bar, a bag of crispy seaweed crackers.
As he placed the items in the small plastic basket, he muttered to himself, "No, don't make her feel obligated. She doesn't have to eat. I'm the one starving. I'm the one—" He caught his reflection in the glass of the freezer door and froze. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Right, just make it look like I'm the hungry one."
He paid quickly, the small bell over the checkout chiming each time the cashier scanned an item. Outside, the night air had cooled slightly, carrying the faint hum of distant traffic and the occasional clatter of a bicycle chain. He walked briskly back to the bakery, balancing the bag in his long fingers with the same care he would handle fragile glass.
Ten minutes later, he returned, the door jingling behind him.
And then Elin noticed the bag.
It was huge. Not just a little bag of chips or instant noodles. Axton was carrying an impressive haul: two steaming cups of Maggi ramen noodles, two tuna mayo onigiri, a packet of hanjuku eggs, a few more snacks that Elin couldn't immediately identify, and a small carton of milk tucked in at the top.
Her eyes widened. "That... that's all for you?" she asked, taking a cautious step closer.
He set the bag down with a sheepish thud, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... maybe," he said, trying to sound casual. "I figured, you know, snacks for me. Late-night hunger. Dangerous stuff. High risk."
Elin raised an eyebrow, a laugh already threatening to escape. "High risk? Really? You call this high risk?"
He gestured vaguely toward the pile. "Well... it's possible I'll eat all of it before anyone else gets a chance. That's risky, right?"
She tilted her head, still incredulous, then frowned thoughtfully. "Axton..."
He lifted a hand in surrender. "Okay, okay. I might have also... thought you'd be hungry. But don't worry! I'm the one starving. Totally. No pressure for you to eat if you're full."
Elin's lips twitched, and she shook her head, a warmth spreading in her chest that had nothing to do with the bakery ovens. "You really didn't have to..."
He shrugged, pretending nonchalance but not quite meeting her eyes. "I wanted to. You work all day. You deserve to eat something besides cinnamon rolls."
Elin's heart softened, and she crouched slightly to grab a cup of ramen. "You're ridiculous."
"Yeah," he admitted, grinning as he tore open a pack of snacks, "but it's my superpower."
The two of them leaned against the counter, unpacking the bag together. The small sound of wrappers, the faint steam curling from the noodles, and the shared laughter filled the quiet bakery. Axton kept up a running commentary as he tried to make it sound like he was ravenous, exaggerating every sip of ramen and each bite of onigiri.
"You know," she said, raising an eyebrow as she popped a bite of tuna mayo onigiri into her mouth, "if this is how you act when you're 'hungry,' I'm scared to see what you're like when you're really starving."
He laughed, the sound warm and easy, and met her gaze. "Then you'd better stick around and find out."
For a moment, neither moved. The soft glow of the bakery lights, the scent of fresh bread mingling with instant noodles, and the quiet intimacy of two people just sharing a meal wrapped around them. It felt like a small, perfect bubble outside of the busy, rushing world.
And yet, somewhere beneath the laughter and the noodles, Elin felt a quiet question stir in her chest. Why did she feel so... drawn to him, even when he tried so hard to make it all about something else?
"You ever think about dreams?" he asked suddenly, his green eyes focused on the steam rising from his cup of ramen.
Elin blinked, mid-bite, chewing thoughtfully before setting the onigiri down. "Dreams? Like... what you want to do with your life, or the weird ones you have when you sleep?"
He smirked faintly. "Both, I guess. Though the sleep ones are usually... stranger."
She chuckled, sipping her tea. "Fair. I've had a few nightmares about flour. Once I dreamt all my dough turned into... snakes. Slithering everywhere. Woke up screaming. Not my finest moment."
Axton laughed, low and amused, shaking his head. "That's terrifying. But also, I kind of get it. I've had dreams where my meetings turned into... battlefields. People throwing spreadsheets at me."
Elin tilted her head, curiosity sparking. "And do you ever... wake up thinking maybe some of them are real?"
He paused, studying her as if he wanted to measure something in the curve of her lips, the way her hair had fallen just so over her shoulder. "Sometimes. Life can feel like a battle. But moments like this?" He gestured around the cozy bakery, the faint steam curling from their noodles, the warm glow that made her eyes sparkle.
"They make me wonder if maybe the dream worth following is the one that's right in front of you."
Elin's chest warmed at the sincerity in his voice. She looked down at her cup, fingers tracing the rim, then dared to meet his gaze. "Some dreams aren't about chasing," she said softly. "Maybe they're about noticing. Seeing the small things before they disappear."
His smile turned slow and mischievous. "Small things, huh?" He leaned closer just slightly, his voice dropping a notch. "Like a certain baker who keeps smiling even though she's tired?"
Elin felt heat creep up her neck. "Maybe," she said, a little breathless. "Or maybe she's just amused at how serious you are about pretending you're starving."
He laughed, and the sound sent a thrill down her spine. "You caught me. I was going to pretend to be hungry so you'd think I'm simple, but really..." He lowered his voice even further, teasing but tinged with something softer, "I just wanted to see you smile tonight."
Elin rolled her eyes, but her hands betrayed her, fiddling with a spoon in the tea cup. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Axton Creighton."
"Oh, I don't know," he said, tilting his head. "I've got a pretty good track record of getting people to... at least consider listening to me."
She laughed again, softer this time, a hint of something more in her gaze. "Consider listening to you... or consider enjoying your company?"
He paused, caught for the briefest instant, before grinning. "Both, if I'm lucky."
The bakery seemed to shrink around them, the hum of the espresso machine and the soft glow of lights making the space feel intimate and warm. He took a careful sip of his ramen, but his eyes stayed on her, unguarded in a way that made her pulse quicken.
"You know," she said, voice quiet, leaning slightly forward, "I didn't expect a tall stranger to be... so thoughtful. Or so... easy to talk to."
He chuckled, a low sound that made her smile tug wider. "Thoughtful, maybe. Easy to talk to... only with the right person." He paused, eyes glimmering with teasing warmth. "And I'm guessing you're it."
Elin's heart skipped, a fluttering she tried to mask behind a sip of tea. "Careful," she warned lightly, though her voice betrayed her. "You're treading dangerous territory here."
"Dangerous?" he echoed, leaning just slightly closer, enough for the space between them to crackle. "I think that's my favorite kind."
She laughed softly, looking down, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The air between them was charged, playful but heavy with unspoken curiosity, the kind that made small silences linger and breaths catch.
"You really think a dream like this... could be real?" she asked quietly, almost to herself, though her eyes flicked toward him.
He nodded, and there was a pause. His gaze held hers, steady and gentle, and her heart skipped in a way that made her hands tremble slightly. The soft hum of the espresso machine and the faint aroma of cinnamon rolls wrapped around them like a warm cocoon, making the world outside the bakery feel distant and muted.
"I... I was wondering," he began, his voice low, almost hesitant, "if you'd like to go out with me sometime. Not here, not for business... just us. Maybe dinner, or something simple?"
Elin blinked, caught completely off guard. Her mind raced, heart thudding so loudly she worried he could hear it. But she couldn't stop the smile that crept across her face, shy and amused. "You... mean a date?" she asked softly, the word sounding strange and thrilling on her tongue.
He nodded, leaning forward slightly, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. "Yes. A proper date. No pastries involved—well, unless you want them there. I'd like to spend time with you... outside the bakery. Just you and me."
Elin's cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his tone, the vulnerability she hadn't expected from someone so composed, so tall, and so effortlessly confident. She looked down at her hands for a moment, tracing the rim of her tea cup with a trembling finger, then met his eyes again. "I... I'd like that," she said, feeling a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the tea in her hands.
Axton's smile widened, the kind that reached his eyes and softened his usually sharp features. She could see relief there, happiness, and something tender that made her stomach flip in the most unexpected way.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, sipping their tea, listening to the soft tick of the wall clock, the faint clatter of an empty tray settling on the counter. The bakery smelled of bread, sweet cinnamon, and a lingering hint of vanilla from the day's pastries. The lights cast a gentle glow over the room, reflecting in Axton's green eyes in a way that made her catch her breath.
"I promise," Axton said softly, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper now, "I'll try not to get lost on the way to our date."
Elin laughed, a sound light and happy, full of warmth. "I'll hold you to that," she replied teasingly, though her heart was fluttering wildly.
He leaned back slightly, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "Maybe I should map it out in advance. You know, just in case."
She shook her head, smiling wider. "You're hopeless, you know that?"
"I prefer 'charmingly misguided,'" he countered with a small grin, letting his gaze linger on her.
Elin's pulse quickened. She couldn't help noticing how his hair caught the soft light, how his smile made him look at once approachable and impossibly distant, like he belonged to a different world but somehow chose to sit here with her. "You really think a man like you gets to ask a girl like me out?" she asked softly, half-joking, half-testing.
Axton's grin softened into something almost tender, and he leaned slightly closer across the table, his hand brushing near hers without quite touching. "I think if I didn't ask, I'd regret it forever."
Elin's fingers twitched, itching to reach out, and her eyes met his, sparkling with something daring and vulnerable all at once. "Then I guess you're lucky," she murmured, letting her voice dip, "because I don't usually say yes to tall strangers who can't even navigate a city street."
His laugh was low and genuine, a sound that wrapped around her like warmth. "I'll take that as a challenge," he said softly, leaning just a little closer, enough that the air between them seemed to hum.