The weeks stretched into months, cold and empty. Everything between Elin and Axton had irrevocably changed.
Elin had taken a short break from the bakery, a pause she had hoped would give her space to think, to breathe. She had set boundaries, instructing Axton not to contact her
He had obeyed, though the restraint had burned him with every passing day. Anger and frustration gnawed at him, but he respected her choices, as difficult as it was.
Weeks bled into months. They hadn't seen each other in all that time. She hadn't reached out—not a call, not a single text. Axton had tried to keep his messages sparse, careful not to overwhelm her, but even the minimal attempts were met with silence. The void between them was deafening, and he felt it every day.
Axton missed her. Deeply.
The absence of her voice, her presence, the rhythm of her life that had once entwined with his own, left a hollowness that no amount of work or distraction could fill.
He looked a mess—haggard, restless, like he hadn't slept properly in weeks. He hadn't realized just how much he had leaned on her, until the space she had pulled away had revealed the emptiness beneath it all.
Three months ago, she had specifically asked him not to come near the bakery. He had obeyed, forcing himself to respect the walls she built, but every day he had imagined her among the counters and ovens, the faint smell of dough and sugar wafting through the air. And now, seeing her, the compulsion to break every rule, to throw caution aside, surged through him like wildfire.
He sat in his car for a long moment, parked across the street from Bluebell Bakes. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He watched her move behind the counter, precise and methodical, brushing flour from her hands, setting pastries neatly in the display.
She looked thinner than he remembered, her cheekbones sharper, the light in her eyes tinged with something tired but resolute.
Had she been eating properly? Sleeping?
He felt the ache of worry settle deep in his chest.
"Fuck this," he muttered under his breath, the words rough and raw. He didn't think about the consequences, about her boundaries, about what she might say. He left the car and strode toward the bakery, heart hammering against his ribs with a combination of fear, longing, and desperation.
The bell above the door rang sharply as he entered. "Welco—"
Elin froze mid-word. Her hands paused over the counter, her chest catching sharply in her throat. The air between them shifted, thick and electric.
She gasped, eyes wide, staring at him as if she couldn't believe he was really there. The person she had kept out, the one she had pretended not to need, the one who had haunted her thoughts through the silence of months, was standing in front of her.
Axton's gaze swept over her, taking in every detail—her thinner frame, the faint weariness around her eyes, the way she held herself as if the world might tip over at any moment.
The bakery smelled of fresh bread and pastries, warm and inviting.
It smelled like croissants.
It smelled like her...
"A-Axton?"
Her co-worker had seen it happen. That single word, spoken like a breath held too long, carried more weight than anything else she had uttered in the past three months.
It was the only name Elin had whispered in all that time, and yet it resonated through the quiet of the bakery like a hidden chord.
He didn't know the history between his boss and Axton, not the tangled, messy thread of tension, betrayal, and care that bound them. He only knew what he saw: a woman who had tried so hard to rebuild herself after the chaos that had erupted between Axton and Sebastian.
In the first weeks after Elin returned to the bakery, she seemed fine. Or at least, that's what she wanted everyone to believe. She moved through her day with a kind of practiced lightness, smiling, laughing, keeping herself busy in the rhythm of the ovens and the scent of fresh dough.
Customers noticed, co-workers noticed, even the occasional stranger passing by felt her cheer.
It was almost convincing.
But he had heard whispers. He had seen the moment she broke, alone in the kitchen, arms wrapped around her knees as if trying to hold herself together from the inside out. He had heard her quiet sobs before she composed herself, wiped her tears, and returned to the counter with that same smile that hid everything.
Elin missed Axton. She missed him in the quiet of the mornings, in the way her thoughts lingered on his presence, the way she caught herself imagining him walking through the door. She missed him in ways that hurt, that made her chest tighten and her hands shake.
She had even baked croissants absentmindedly, something she hadn't done in weeks.
Croissants were his favourite, and the memory of the first pastry he had tasted from her bakery, the small smile he had given her, the way he had savoured it—it lingered with her, bittersweet and persistent.
Cutting off contact hadn't been her first thought. If she had had her choice in the moment, she would have walked straight into Axton's office, wrapped her arms around him, and never let go.
But fear had crept in, sharp and insistent, whispering warnings she couldn't ignore. Forgiving him again—opening herself to that trust, that vulnerability—felt dangerous. It felt like stepping off a cliff she had no guarantee she could survive.
So she stayed silent. She avoided the messages, the calls, the memories. She kept herself busy, built walls around her heart, and let the bakery be her sanctuary, even as every croissant, every loaf, every careful touch of flour on her hands reminded her of the one person she truly wished was there beside her.
Even now, seeing him through the doorway, the surge of everything she had been holding back made her knees weak and her chest tight. She wanted to run, to turn away, to protect herself from the possibility of forgiveness.
Axton's jaw tightened, his voice low, steady, but heavy with everything he hadn't said in months.
"Elin."
Before Elin could even find the words, a gentle nudge at her elbow pulled her out of her whirlwind of hesitation. Her co-worker's eyes were kind, steady, and insistent.
"Go," he said softly, his eyes kind but firm. "Talk to him. Stop holding yourself back, boss. You've given yourself enough time. Just... go to him."
Elin's lips pressed together, a nervous bite that barely contained the storm of emotions inside her. His words struck something deep, cutting through the fear she had been nursing for months. She exhaled, a shaky breath, and slowly stepped forward, closing the small distance between herself and Axton.
Her feet felt heavy, as if carrying all the hesitation, longing, and uncertainty she had stuffed away for months. When she finally stopped in front of him, she looked up, meeting his gaze.
"Axton—" she began, her voice trembling, soft and uneven.
"Elin—" he replied immediately, his own voice catching as he met her eyes.
Her cheeks warmed instantly, and she ducked her head slightly, feeling the heat rush through her.
"Y-You go first."
Elin's heart pounded. God, she had missed him. His voice, roughened from worry and exhaustion, still held that familiar soothing timbre that made her chest ache with longing.
Axton's lips parted, and for a moment he struggled to find the words, the raw emotion in his eyes making her chest tighten even further. "Elin... I... I don't even know where to start. There's so much I need to say to you. But just seeing you here now... I—" His voice broke, a tremor catching the edges of the carefully held composure he usually wore. "I missed you. I missed you so much."
He took a step forward, but his knees faltered slightly, a sudden weakness overtaking him. He had been running on pure adrenaline and worry for the past two days, skipping meals, neglecting sleep, letting everything else fall away except the need to see her.
The strain finally caught up with him, and he swayed, caught only partially by instinct before his legs gave out, and he stumbled, nearly falling to the floor.
Elin's eyes widened, panic surging through her, and she rushed forward instinctively, catching him by the arms.
"Axton! W-What happened? Did you forgot to eat?"
Her voice trembled, but there was no hesitation, no thought of anger, only relief that he was here, in front of her, and concern that he had pushed himself to the point of collapse.
He steadied himself on her support, breathing heavily, and finally allowed himself a small, shaky laugh. "I... I guess I forgot a few things... like food," he muttered, voice rough from disuse and emotion. "But seeing you... it makes everything else irrelevant."
"Everyone out! I'm so sorry, but I really need a moment here. I promise—free pastries tomorrow for everyone!"
Her customers exchanged surprised glances, then smiled knowingly. They had come to understand her moods and the intensity of her work. One by one, they left the bakery, their footsteps fading, leaving the warmth of ovens and the scent of fresh bread to fill the space.
Her co-worker lingered for a heartbeat, then shrugged with a grin. "Boss, I'll head out too. Don't worry about the new batches—I've got them prepped already." He gave her a playful wink before dashing out the door, leaving the two of them alone.
Elin turned to Axton, heart hammering. "Axton—" she began, then faltered. He was heavier than she remembered, his body slumped, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. She tried to lift him, to steady him, but her strength wasn't enough.
He let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound rough but still familiar. "Relax he said, shifting slightly so she could guide him into a chair. He leaned back, letting himself settle, and his hands pressed lightly on her shoulders for balance.
Elin muttered under her breath, her fingers brushing against the warm wood of the counter as she moved toward the shelves. Her steps were careful but determined. She reached for a small plate and selected a few golden-brown croissants, the ones that had always been his favourite. She arranged them with gentle care, almost ceremoniously, the smell of butter and flaky pastry filling the air between them.
Placing the plate in front of him, she knelt slightly to meet his gaze. "Eat it," she said softly, the quaver in her voice betraying just how long she had waited to be close enough to care for him again. "It's your favourite."
Axton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, everything else was suspended. He reached for a croissant, the flaky layers crumbling slightly in his fingers, and took a slow, deliberate bite. The taste, the familiar comfort of something made with care, brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.
Elin watched him closely, her own tension easing just enough to notice the details she had missed—the way his shoulders relaxed when he finally sat down, the faint tremor in his hands from hunger and stress, the quiet hum of relief in his chest as he tasted the pastry.
She realized, in that moment, that the bakery—the place she had always associated with safety, with her grandmother's legacy—was now the backdrop for something new, something fragile but deeply, achingly real.
Axton leaned back in the chair, chewing slowly, savouring not just the croissant but the act of being here, of being present with her. His eyes never left hers. "You made these?" he asked softly, voice hoarse from disuse and emotion.
Elin nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. I... I made them thinking of you."
Axton's fingers tightened slightly around the half-eaten croissant, as if the simple movement grounded him. He swallowed hard, emotion bunching thick in his throat. "Elin... I..."
Elin stood in front of him, her hands lightly gripping the edge of the counter for support. She could feel her heartbeat thudding against her ribs, the old ache of longing and hurt intertwining. The silence stretched between them, thick and trembling.
She took a steadying breath and stepped a little closer, close enough that he could see the faint smudges of flour on her fingers, close enough that she could see how much weight he had lost, how exhausted he truly was.
I'm ready," she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.
She looked directly into his eyes, letting him see everything she had avoided showing him for months.
Fear, longing, anger and...hope.
"I'm ready to talk about us."