The morning rush had settled into a comfortable hum. The scent of butter and cinnamon lingered in the air, mingling with the low clink of coffee cups and the chatter of aunties gossiping at the corner table. Elin wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the counter for a moment, breathing in the satisfaction of a morning well-run.
Then the doorbell jingled.
Axton filled the doorway like a painting suddenly hung in the wrong gallery. He was still in his shirtsleeves, tall and unshakably composed, but behind him came five men in black suits, shoes polished to mirrors, shoulders square and unyielding. They scanned the room in silence, their gazes sharp and professional.
The bakery's noise cut off like a snapped thread. Forks hovered mid-air, conversations froze. Even the espresso machine hissed to a quiet end, as though the room itself understood something had shifted.
Elin blinked, her body stiffening. What in the world...
Mrs. Tan's voice broke the silence. "Aiyo. Why so many men in black? Did we walk into a movie set?"
Mrs. Wong clutched her handbag like a shield. "Don't be silly. It must be a funeral procession. Or..." She leaned forward dramatically, lowering her voice. "A mafia boss meeting."
Elin's throat went dry. She forced her voice into a polite register, though her hands curled against her apron. "Good morning. Would you like a table for six?"
Axton's eyes found hers instantly. Something softened in his expression, as if he could feel her unease. He gave the faintest shake of his head. "No. Just me." He turned, his voice steady as a blade's edge. "Wait outside. I'll be fine here."
The men didn't argue. They exchanged glances, then filed out with the same quiet precision they had entered. Their departure rattled the bell again, leaving the bakery in stunned silence.
Only then did Elin release the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "What," she managed, "was that?"
"Work," Axton said simply, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed a story he wasn't ready to tell. He stepped closer, lowering his tone so only she could hear. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Nothing?" Her brows shot up. "You just walked in with what looked like... like..."
"An entourage?" His lips curved faintly, almost sheepishly. "They insisted."
Before she could reply, Mrs. Tan rose with surprising speed for her age and marched across the bakery, her handbag swinging like a weapon of justice. "Young man. You cannot just scare people like this. We are old, our hearts cannot take such shocks!"
The customers chuckled nervously, easing some of the tension.
Mrs. Wong joined in, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she looked Axton up and down. "Who are they? Secret service? Bodyguards? Don't tell me... mafia?"
Elin nearly choked on a laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth. The image of Axton running a mafia operation while calmly buying croissants was absurd, but the aunties' intensity made it worse.
Axton, however, only chuckled. "Not mafia. Not secret service. Just associates. They overdress for everything."
Mrs. Tan folded her arms. "Overdress? Hah. They looked like they were ready to raid a casino."
Mrs. Wong tilted her head, studying him with the sharp eye of someone who had seen too many soap operas. "Mm. Handsome, tall, mysterious, surrounded by suits. Definitely leading man energy. Elin ah, you better be careful."
Elin flushed scarlet. "Auntie!"
The entire bakery burst into laughter. The tension cracked like an eggshell, spilling warmth back into the room.
Axton leaned down, close enough that his voice brushed against her ear. "For the record," he murmured, "I'd rather be here than anywhere else."
Her heart stumbled. She ducked her head, busying herself with rearranging the sugar packets on the counter just to steady her breathing.
But the aunties weren't done. They swept toward the corner table, dragging Axton with them like prize catch at the wet market. "Come, come. Sit. We have questions."
"I don't think—" Elin began, but it was too late.
"So, Axton," Mrs. Tan said, leaning across the table like an interrogator, "if you are not mafia, then what do you do?"
"Finance," he said smoothly, his smile polite.
"Finance?" Mrs. Wong tapped her chin. "Ah. That explains the suits. How much money you make every month?"
Elin's jaw dropped. "Auntie!"
Mrs. Tan waved her off. "Good question! Elin is shy. We aunties must protect her."
But Axton didn't even flinch. His lips curved, playful. "Enough to keep Elin in flour and butter for the rest of her life."
Gasps and delighted cackles broke out across the bakery. Elin's entire face went scarlet, her ears burning. She swatted at him weakly. "Stop saying things like that!"
Mrs. Tan pounced on his words. "Ahhh, you mention 'rest of her life.' So when you plan to marry?"
Elin's soul nearly left her body. "What—Auntie, stop! He's just a customer!"
But Axton, calm as ever, only tilted his head, eyes glinting with humour. "Well, I haven't quite gotten her answer yet," he said smoothly. "But when I do, I'll let you know."
Mrs. Wong clapped her hands. "Wah! Good answer. But can you cook rice? That one important."
"Of course."
"Eggs?"
"Yes."
"Instant noodles?"
He chuckled. "That too."
The aunties nodded approvingly, as though he had passed the first round of some hidden test. Elin stood behind the counter, torn between horror and helpless laughter, her cheeks burning brighter by the second.
Finally, Mrs. Tan leaned back, satisfied. "We give you temporary approval. But you break Elin's heart, we aunties come after you. We don't need suits."
The customers roared with laughter again, and even Axton laughed, his shoulders loosening. "Understood," he said solemnly. "I'll keep that in mind."
Mrs. Wong leaned forward, elbows planted firmly on the table, her eyes twinkling like a cat that had cornered a mouse. "Young man, how old are you exactly? Don't bluff. We aunties can tell if you lie."
Axton smiled easily. "Thirty-two."
"Wah," Mrs. Tan gasped, clutching her chest as if this was the juiciest gossip she had heard all week. "Elin, you see? He is not small boy. Perfect age. Very stable."
Elin groaned, pressing her face into her hands. "Auntie, please..."
Mrs. Tan ignored her. "So. You can cook rice, you say. What about wash clothes? Iron shirt? Fold bedsheet? The fitted one, not the easy one."
The customers tittered. Even Elin peeked up through her fingers, curious how he would answer.
"Yes," Axton said without hesitation. "Though the fitted sheet still wins sometimes."
The whole bakery laughed.
Just as the aunties finally wandered back to their corner, satisfied with their "interview," the bakery door jingled again. Elin looked up and froze.
Axton's men, the sharply dressed assistants she had glimpsed outside the day before, filed in one by one. They moved with the precision of a well-rehearsed team, polite but observant, their eyes scanning the bakery before settling on her.
"Good morning," one said smoothly, bowing slightly. "Mr. Creighton mentioned you might be able to answer a few questions for us."
Elin's heart skipped. "Questions? For... me?" Her hands clenched the edge of the counter.
Another assistant stepped forward, grinning. "Yes. He speaks very highly of you. We'd love to know more about the woman behind the bakery that keeps him smiling every morning."
Mrs. Tan gasped, clutching her pearls. "Aiyo, now his men are asking? You really must be something special, girl."
Elin swallowed and gave a shaky nod. "I... I guess you can ask."
The first assistant leaned in slightly, friendly but calculating. "What do you usually eat for breakfast? Sweet or savoury?"
Elin's cheeks warmed as she replied softly, "I like both... but the croissants here are my favorite. That's why I make them carefully."
Axton, standing a few feet away, watched her with a soft, amused smile. She felt a flutter in her chest. He looked proud, almost... pleased to see her flustered.
The second assistant, clearly enjoying the line of questioning, asked, "And what do you do in your free time? Any hobbies outside baking?"
Elin laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I like reading. Long walks by the river. And I experiment with new recipes... sometimes they work, sometimes they don't."
Mrs. Wong whispered to Mrs. Tan, practically vibrating with excitement. "She's so modest, yet charming! Can you imagine him seeing this every day?"
Elin felt her face heat up as she realized Axton's eyes were still on her, that calm, unwavering gaze making her stomach twist in both nerves and delight.
The last assistant, a young man with a mischievous smile, leaned forward. "If Mr. Creighton weren't here, would you go on a date with him?"
Elin's breath caught. She blinked rapidly, stammering, "I—I..."
Axton stepped closer, leaning down so only she could hear. "You don't have to answer them, Elin. But I think we both know what you'd say."
Axton shook his head, still grinning. "No, you're impossible. You make me look forward to every morning."
Her heart fluttered. She looked through her fingers and caught his eyes, recognizing that the bakery had transformed into its own tiny world. The city noise, the aunties' chatting, and the clinking of coffee cups faded into the background. For a little while, it was just the two of them.
The bakery finally settled after the whirlwind of auntie interrogations and Axton's men prying into her life. Elin leaned against the counter, rubbing at her cheeks, still flushed from all the teasing. The aunties were whispering happily in their corner, occasionally sneaking glances her way like triumphant matchmakers.
Axton stood by the door, ticket stubs in hand, waiting until the last customer left before approaching her again. He lowered his voice, just for her.
"You survived," he said with a grin.
"Barely," Elin muttered, pressing her palms to her face. "I've never been interrogated by so many people in one morning."
The evening air pushed warm and humid against Elin's skin, the residual heat of a normal Singapore day mingling with the faint aroma of neighbouring street food vendors. She went along the promenade towards the Oceanarium, feeling her nerves coil and uncoil with each stride.
The golden light of the setting sun bounced off the glass façade, making the water tanks sparkle like liquid gemstones. She grabbed the tickets in her hand, fingers tightening around them, attempting to calm her rushing heart.
Axton was already there, leaning casually against the railing near the entrance. Even in the soft glow of the streetlights, his presence made her pulse quicken. He looked at her and that familiar, warm smile curved his lips.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. "You made it."
"I did," she replied, smiling shyly. "This place is... wow."
He tilted his head, letting his gaze roam over the grand tanks behind him. "It's amazing, isn't it? I thought it'd be nice to come somewhere quiet. Something a bit magical, far from all the noise."
Elin felt her cheeks heat. "You planned this?" she asked, laughter threading through her words, mingling with the faint hum of the city.
"I did," he admitted, shrugging as if it were no big deal, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. "I wanted to do something special. And I wanted an excuse to spend more time with you."
Her chest fluttered, a mix of nerves and something tender forming in her stomach. She gave a playful nudge. "You're terrible," she said softly. "You know that, right?"
"Maybe," he replied, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "But you like it."
They stepped inside together, the soft filtered blue light from the massive tanks washing over them. Schools of fish glimmered like molten silver, gliding in patterns that seemed choreographed, while jellyfish floated like luminous clouds overhead. Each tank drew them closer, not just to the marine life, but to each other.
Elin stopped by a tank filled with manta rays, pressing her hands lightly to the cool glass. "It's beautiful," she murmured, mesmerized as the rays' graceful wings cut through the water.
Axton stepped up beside her, brushing shoulders, just close enough to make her heart stutter. "Not as beautiful as this," he murmured, eyes locking with hers.
Her lips curved into a shy laugh, the heat rising to her cheeks. "Axton..." she breathed, glancing away but unable to hide the smile.
He chuckled softly, low and warm, like the distant rumble of waves. "I can't help myself," he admitted, a faint sparkle of vulnerability flickering in his gaze. "You make it too easy."
They wandered through the exhibits at an easy pace, shoulders brushing every so often, as though pulled into orbit around each other. The tanks cast shifting ripples of blue across their faces, painting his jawline in cool light and making her eyes look like polished glass.
They lingered at the jellyfish display, their translucent bodies pulsing like living lanterns.
"These were my favourite when I was a kid," Axton confessed, his tone almost boyish. "I used to think they were aliens, floating in their own world."
Elin laughed, the sound muffled in the cavernous space. "That sounds exactly like something a little boy would think." She tilted her head, watching the jellyfish drift like slow fireworks. "But I get it. They're... strange, but in the most beautiful way."
"And you?" he asked, turning toward her, genuinely curious.
She hesitated, the soft light flickering across her features. "I used to sit by the river and try to sketch herons and carp. But I was terrible. They always ended up looking like... squashed chickens."
Axton burst out laughing, the sound warm and unguarded. "I'd pay money to see that sketch."
Her cheeks coloured, but she grinned despite herself. "You won't. I burned them."
Each exchange felt lighter, sweeter, like adding delicate folds to pastry dough. Yet beneath the laughter, something else hummed quietly between them, an awareness that grew with every sidelong glance, every brush of a sleeve. Even the bustle of children pressing close to the glass and parents pointing at shoals of fish couldn't touch the cocoon forming around them.
Eventually, they reached a quiet alcove near the glass tunnel. Sharks glided overhead, their shadows cutting across the floor like passing clouds. The air was cooler here, still, the faint hum of the tanks filling the silence.
Elin sank onto one of the curved benches, her gaze still caught on the powerful glide of a hammerhead above. "They look so fierce," she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.
"They are," Axton agreed, settling beside her, though his eyes were not on the sharks but on her profile, the glow of the aquariums softening the lines of her face. "But they're not the only ones commanding attention tonight."
She felt his gaze and turned, caught by the intensity in his eyes. Before she could find words, he reached into his bag, the rustle of paper breaking the charged quiet.
"For you," he said, offering a small gift-wrapped package with a faintly sheepish grin. "So you'll remember tonight."
Inside was a tiny plush fish, round and comical, with wide stitched eyes.
Her laughter bubbled out, light and surprised. "This is adorable." She tucked it carefully into her bag as though it were fragile, her fingers lingering on the fabric. When she looked back at him, her smile was different—softer, touched with something deeper. "You really planned all this."
He leaned back, pretending nonchalance, but there was a vulnerability in the way his hand tightened slightly on his knee.
"I did. I wanted tonight to be special. Just for us."
Elin's chest tightened. The sincerity in his voice settled over her like a warm blanket, leaving her momentarily speechless. She found her courage in a whisper, almost as though saying it too loud might break the fragile spell between them. "It already is."