It was not an overnight transformation.
Elin did not let herself cling too tightly to Axton's promises.
It was not that she doubted him. She trusted him more than she trusted most people. But trust did not erase disappointment, and she had learned to protect her heart in small, quiet ways.
Bluebell Bakes was already alive with the morning rush. The hum of conversation, the soft clatter of plates, and the warm aroma of butter and sugar wrapped around the shop like a familiar blanket.
Ever since Gordon Ramsay had walked in unannounced nearly a year ago and declared her pastries "shockingly perfect," the bakery had rarely seen a quiet day. Even now, she moved with brisk efficiency, weaving between customers while her staff kept the front counter moving.
Still, as the bakery flourished, she felt the weight of new responsibilities settling on her shoulders. She had not created a new recipe in months. She had not revamped her menu. And the shop itself—its vintage shelves, pastel tiles, and floral curtains—suddenly felt a little too old-fashioned. She wondered if it was time for a full renovation. Maybe new countertops, new display cases, new lighting. Maybe she should redesign the wrappers and paper bags too. Something fresh. Something that matched how far she had come.
Her thoughts drifted endlessly, piling up like dough left to rise too long.
"What's on your mind?"
The familiar voice cut through the haze. Elin blinked and nearly burned herself on the tray as she slid a fresh batch of pastries into the oven. She spun around, hand still gripping the oven mitt.
"Oh—Axton. I didn't notice you come in."
He stood a few steps behind her, leaning casually against the prep table. He wore a simple button-down today, sleeves rolled neatly up his forearms, looking strangely at home amid the scent of butter and flour. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You were lost," he said gently. "I called your name twice."
Elin felt heat creep up her neck. "Sorry. My mind's been all over the place lately. I was thinking about renovations."
Axton's eyebrows lifted with interest. He pushed off the table and stepped closer, careful not to get in her way. "Renovations? You're finally considering it?"
She nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "The bakery has been the same for years. I love the old-school charm, but maybe it is time for something new. Something brighter. I don't know. I was thinking about redesigning everything, even the layout."
When Axton heard her talking about layout changes and redesign ideas, something brightened in his expression. It was not the sharp, businesslike spark she used to see during negotiations. It was softer, almost eager.
"Do you need my help with any of that?" he asked, stepping closer while keeping a respectful distance so she would not feel crowded.
Elin rested her palms on the counter, thinking. "Actually... yes. I know nothing about interior design. I can bake anything you want, but if you ask me to pick tiles or colours, I'll panic." She let out a breathy laugh, and his shoulders eased, as if her comfort meant more to him than the answer itself.
"Then I'll make a few calls," he said quietly. His tone held no arrogance, only a genuine desire to support her. "I know some good people. They can come in, take a look, give you options."
Her smile softened. "Thank you, Axton. Really."
He hesitated then, fingers flexing at his side. "Elin... can I bring you out for lunch?" His cheeks warmed, and the faint blush made him look unexpectedly boyish for a man who usually carried the weight of a corporation on his shoulders. "Only if you are free," he added quickly.
She opened her mouth, unsure how to answer. She did want to go. Her heart reacted before her mind did. But her throat tightened with uncertainty.
"Uh... I—"
Before she could settle on a response, her staff member appeared beside her, wiping flour off his hands as he scoped the situation. He glanced between them, eyes twinkling knowingly.
"Boss, we have everything covered here," he said with a grin. "Go. Enjoy your lunch. We can handle the rest of the day."
Elin's face reddened. Axton tried to hide a smile but failed, the corners of his lips lifting in the softest curve.
The drive to VivoCity was quiet at first, filled only with the soft hum of the car and the occasional turn of the GPS. Axton kept his eyes on the road, but he noticed Elin stealing glances at him from time to time, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve as if she were trying to bridge the months of silence with a little courage.
He refused to let the awkwardness linger. "I'm craving sushi," he said suddenly, the words breaking the tension. "Let's go to Genki at Vivo."
Her eyes widened at the mention of sushi, and a small, delighted laugh escaped her. Her stomach growled in perfect timing, as though agreeing with him. She covered her mouth briefly, cheeks warming, and finally nodded. "Okay," she said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of amusement and anticipation.
Axton's confidence faltered the moment he realized he had never actually tried sushi before. The craving was more curiosity than memory, and it made him chuckle at himself quietly.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Axton paused, scanning the conveyor belt system with a mixture of fascination and mild confusion. Plates of colourful sushi slid past patrons, each dish gleaming under the soft lighting. He furrowed his brow. "How does this work?" he asked, voice low.
Elin laughed, shaking her head slightly. "For someone who's never had sushi, how do you even crave it?" she teased lightly, her eyes sparkling with gentle amusement. Without waiting for his answer, she leaned slightly forward and began to place their orders with the waitress, her confidence in the menu making him feel strangely at ease.
Axton cleared his throat and ran a hand down the back of his neck, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "I... I just... I saw it somewhere, and it looked good," he admitted quietly. "I thought it would be nice to try it with you."
Elin's smile softened at that, and a warmth spread in her chest. "Then it's settled. You're going to love it," she said, eyes crinkling at the corners. She reached out briefly to tap his arm, a light, playful gesture that made him glance down at her hand and back up, blinking as if the simple contact had startled him.
The first bite of sushi arrived, and Axton watched her carefully, mimicking her movements hesitantly before taking his own. The flavours were new, bold, and delicate all at once, and he found himself grinning. "This... this is amazing," he said, eyes meeting hers with genuine wonder.
Elin laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I told you. Welcome to the world of sushi," she said, reaching for another piece, her fingers brushing against his hand again as she offered him the next plate.
***
"Wait, why are we in FairPrice?" Elin asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she watched Axton push a shopping cart down the brightly lit aisle.
Axton smiled, reaching for a cart and pushing it down the aisle. "You said you haven't been working on any new recipes lately, right?" he replied, sliding a coin into the cart slot. "I figured we could gather some ingredients, brainstorm a little. Inspiration doesn't always strike behind the counter."
Elin pursed her lips, glancing at her watch. "Huh? But I need to get back to work. I still have the oven going, and the staff is counting on me."
Axton shook his head slightly, almost amused. "Your staff can handle it, Elin. They practically gave you a thumbs up earlier. They know you're overworked. This will be fun, trust me."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already scanning the fruits aisle with intent, crouching slightly to inspect the bright, golden mangoes on display. He picked one up and held it out to her, as if presenting a rare treasure. "Look at these mangoes. Don't you think they're perfect?"
Elin tilted her head, following his gesture. The mango gleamed in the fluorescent light, smooth and almost glowing. A small, playful smile appeared on his face. "Mango cream cheese croissant," he suggested, holding the fruit closer to her so she could feel the weight of the idea. "What do you think?"
Elin took the mango from his hand and rolled it lightly between her fingers, considering. "Mm," she murmured, biting her lip thoughtfully. "It's too common. Mango and cream cheese? That's been done a thousand times. I want something unexpected, something that makes people pause when they take the first bite."
Axton chuckled softly, following her gaze down the aisle. "Unexpected, huh? I think I can handle that. You want the croissant to surprise them?"
"Yes," she said, eyes lighting up, her mind already racing with ideas. "It has to be something fresh, something seasonal, something that reminds them of summer but isn't cliché. Mango is sweet, yes, but we need a twist."
He nodded, pushing the cart a little closer to the produce display. "Twist," he repeated, as if tasting the word on his tongue. "Alright, then. Let's find it. I'll be your shopping assistant, chef's apprentice, and taste tester all in one."
After nearly an hour of wandering through aisles and tossing anything remotely inspiring into the cart, they returned to Bluebell Bakes with bags full of fruits, chocolates, syrups, spices, and ingredients Elin wasn't even sure she had ever used before. The kitchen quickly transformed into a lively chaos of bowls, utensils, and scattered ideas.
Elin was whisking a bowl of cream-based filling when she suddenly spun around and caught Axton with a spoon in his hand, already halfway to his mouth. Before he could take another bite, she flicked a handful of flour directly at his chest.
"Axton!" she scolded, her eyes widening. "You're supposed to help me taste-test, not devour everything! You've eaten half a bowl of the filling already!"
Axton froze in place, dusted in a light layer of white powder. He blinked once, then grinned boyishly. "I can't help it, Elin. It's delicious." He reached toward the bowl again, completely unbothered.
She slapped his hand away with a wooden spoon. "No! Stop that!"
He laughed, full and unrestrained, and finally stepped back with his hands raised. "Alright, alright. I'll behave. Chef's orders."
"Good boy," she muttered before she could stop herself.
Axton lifted an eyebrow, mischief sparking in his eyes. "Woof?"
The wooden spoon nearly slipped from her fingers. Elin's face went crimson, heat rising straight to her ears.
Behind her, two of her staff members burst into laughter, trying and failing to hide their amusement behind trays of cooling pastries.
Elin groaned softly into her hands. "Don't encourage him," she told her team, though her voice had softened, amusement threading through her mortification.
Axton leaned against the counter, still dusted in flour, still smiling as if he hadn't had a real reason to smile in months. The kitchen filled with the warm scent of butter and sugar, laughter echoing against steel counters and tiled walls.
And Elin, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he tried not to sneak another spoonful of filling, felt something uncoil in her chest. She wasn't sure what to call it yet, but she recognized the warmth.
She had missed this. She had missed him.
Elin let out a low groan as she dragged a damp cloth across the counter for what felt like the hundredth time. Her shoulders slumped, and a few loose strands of hair clung to her forehead. The ovens had already cooled, the lights were dimmed, and the steady rhythm of her staff had faded hours ago, leaving only the soft hum of the refrigerators and the scent of sugar clinging to the air.
"Ugh. I'm so tired," she muttered, rubbing the ache at the base of her neck.
Axton stood a few feet away, sleeves rolled up, wiping down a mixing bowl with far more care than necessary. He glanced at her, eyes softening. "You should sit down before you fall over."
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice carried none of its usual strength.
Axton didn't argue. He moved to the sink, rinsing the last of the utensils with quiet efficiency. He handled everything so naturally it was almost unsettling—like he had become a part of the kitchen without trying.
After a moment, Elin blinked at him as another thought struck her. "Axton, don't you need to go back to work? You're a CEO."
He shrugged as if that title meant nothing. "Work can survive without me for a day. Maybe even a week."
Elin huffed a tired laugh. "Damn. Lucky you. I wish I could leave this place to someone else and sleep for sixteen hours."
"You could train someone to take over," he said while wiping down a metal surface she had missed. "Hire a manager. Delegate. You wouldn't burn out like this."
She stopped cleaning for a moment. The cloth hung loosely in her fingers as she stared at the rows of empty display cases. The soft reflection of the overhead lights shimmered across the glass, reminding her of early mornings, late nights, and the hundreds of pastries that had passed through her hands today alone.
"It wouldn't be the same," she said quietly. Her voice carried a weight that made Axton pause.
He watched her for a moment, his expression gentler than he intended. Elin wasn't just tired; she was stripped down to something fragile, something honest. The bakery had shaped her from the ground up. Every recipe held a memory, every corner of the space carried a piece of her. The thought of handing it to someone else—even temporarily—felt like tearing out a part of herself.
"Elin, you don't have to worry about a thing," Axton said gently, his voice calm and steady. "We can start slow. Maybe we can even hold a few interviews, just to see who could help you out. I'm not asking you to hand over complete control of the shop, not at all. But you could start training someone, little by little, so you don't have to carry everything on your own all the time."
She frowned slightly, unsure whether to trust the idea.
He watched her closely, waiting for her reaction, making sure she felt no pressure. "Think of it as building a team that lets you breathe. You'll still make the decisions, still create the recipes, still run your bakery your way. But having help means you won't have to be exhausted at the end of every single day."
Elin exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. "I know you mean well, Axton, but... this shop isn't just pastries and recipes. It's years of memories, late nights, mornings that started before sunrise. Every tray, every croissant, every single loaf—I know it sounds dramatic, but it's like... like letting go of a piece of myself if I hand it over."
Axton nodded, stepping closer, resting his hand lightly on hers. "I get it. I really do. I know how much this means to you. That's why I'm not asking for a surrender. I'm asking for a start, a way to make things easier for you without losing what makes this bakery yours. You'll still be the heart of it, the one who decides the flavours, the presentation, everything that matters. You'll still be you, Elin. But we can lighten the load."
Elin chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her apron. "I... I don't know, Axton," she admitted, her voice uncertain. "What if they mess things up? What if they don't respect the recipes, or the shop, or... me?"