Elin's hands hovered nervously as she watched the worker carefully lift one of her grandmother's delicate cake decorations. Her chest tightened, a familiar mix of protectiveness and anxiety bubbling up. "No, please, be careful with that," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she stepped closer, ready to intervene.
Axton, noticing the tension in her shoulders, gently took her hand and guided her toward the bakery door. "Elin, trust them," he said softly, his thumb brushing over hers as he led her outside. "Let them do their job."
She stopped for a moment, glancing back at the pristine counter and the tiny treasures that had been passed down through generations. "But those are important, Axton. They belonged to my grandma. They mean a lot to me."
Axton smiled warmly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I know. That's exactly why I made sure to hire the most competent staff. I personally vetted every single one of them. They're careful, skilled, and respectful of everything you've built. You don't need to worry."
Elin let out a slow breath and nodded, though her eyes still lingered on the bakery. "Thank you again," she murmured, her voice soft but sincere. "I don't know what I would have done without your help."
He gave her a teasing smirk, letting the warmth in his eyes soften the jest. "Since you want to thank me, I expect to be treated to lunch," he said, giving her a playful wink.
Elin chuckled, shaking her head as a blush crept up her cheeks. "Oh, of course! I know just the place. It's been a while since we went somewhere together. I'll make sure it's a proper treat."
She led Axton through the bustling streets of Newton, weaving between the crowds until they reached a small seafood hawker centre tucked into a corner. The air inside was thick with heat and the scent of frying garlic and chili, clinging to every surface.
Fans whirred overhead, but the warmth of the day lingered, making Axton's usually composed expression look slightly frazzled. Sweat had started to bead at his temples, and he was fanning himself with his hand despite having removed his suit jacket.
Even after nearly a year in Singapore, Axton still struggled with the humidity. It wasn't just the heat; it was the oppressive heaviness in the air that seemed to sap his energy within minutes. He had always been the kind of man who thrived in controlled, air-conditioned environments, where every variable could be managed. This, however, was chaos, and he was losing.
Elin couldn't help but chuckle softly when she noticed his discomfort. "I don't get why you insist on wearing a suit every day, Axton," she teased, tilting her head with a grin. "Singapore isn't exactly the kind of place where you can survive the heat in full formal wear."
Axton smiled back at her, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. He had already unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, rolled up his sleeves, and shrugged off his jacket, but even that seemed barely enough. "I know," he admitted, his voice slightly hoarse from the heat. "I guess I just... I like the structure of it. Makes me feel in control."
Elin shook her head, still smiling as she scanned the menu boards above the stalls. She gestured to the drinks stall and ordered two cups of sugar cane juice, the clear, golden liquid glinting in the sunlight.
Once their drinks arrived, she turned back to Axton and offers him the drink with a gentle nudge. "Here, this will help a little. You look like you're melting."
He accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip and letting the cool sweetness soothe the heat creeping up his chest. "Much better," he murmured, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
She placed orders for an assortment of seafood dishes: chili crab, butter prawns, and a plate of black pepper clams. The hawker moved deftly, handling the steaming woks and sizzling pans, and the aroma of spices and fresh seafood filled the air around them.
Axton watched her with a soft expression, a rare ease settling over him. Despite the sweat clinging to his collar and the sticky heat pressing down on them, he felt a strange comfort in this chaotic, crowded place.
When the plates finally arrived, steaming and fragrant, Elin's eyes sparkled with anticipation. She handed Axton a crab claw with a grin. "Try this," she said. "If this doesn't make you forget the heat, nothing will."
The moment Axton sank his teeth into the crab, a wave of intense heat hit him like a punch. The spiciness was far stronger than he had anticipated, and his eyes immediately widened. He froze for a split second, then realized he was completely unprepared for the fiery assault. Axton had never been good with spicy food, and this was proving painfully obvious.
His face flushed bright red, beads of sweat forming along his hairline. He opened his mouth, blowing out the heat like a small furnace, gasping for relief.
"Oh no..." he croaked, waving a hand in front of his face as if that alone could cool the burning sensation.
Elin's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no, Axton! Are you okay?" She reached out instinctively, her voice filled with worry as she watched him struggle.
Axton grabbed the sugar cane juice, gulping it down in a single swallow. He hoped it would help, but even after finishing the cup, the fiery sensation lingered, crawling stubbornly along his tongue and throat. He coughed lightly, fanning his face with his free hand, looking anything but composed.
Elin's eyes softened as she quickly offered him her drink. "Here, take this. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you couldn't eat spicy food," she said, a hint of worry and guilt in her tone.
Axton set the cup down and let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing.
The sound caught Elin off guard, and she frowned slightly. "Why are you laughing?" she asked, still worried but curious.
He shook his head, his eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced at her. "Because you're adorable," he said, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The sight of her flushed face, mixed with concern and slight embarrassment, made him chuckle again.
It was almost comical, the way Axton continued to eat despite the fiery spice overwhelming his senses. Elin had begged him to stop, even suggesting she could order something else for him, something mild and safe. But he refused, insisting that he wanted to try everything she recommended, no matter how hot it was.
She relented and ordered more sugar cane juice, watching him sip it cautiously in between bites. By the time lunch was over, Axton looked as though he had swallowed ten bottles of hot sauce. His face was red, sweat clung to his forehead, and he kept blowing air out of his mouth like he was trying to cool an imaginary fire.
Despite her concern, Elin couldn't help but laugh, the sight too ridiculous not to. The sound of her laughter made Axton chuckle as well, even through the lingering heat and discomfort.
Once they finally left the hawker centre, they made their way back to Bluebell Bakes.
The renovation was already well underway, about forty percent complete. The old furniture and decorations were gone, leaving the bakery bare except for the newly painted blue walls that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.
Elin paused at the doorway, taking in the empty space. The familiar scent of flour and sugar was faint under the faint smell of fresh paint, and the air felt open and different, almost alien. The workers had stepped out for their lunch break, leaving the bakery silent except for the distant hum of the city outside.
She stepped forward slowly, letting her eyes sweep over the space. The absence of furniture made it feel both fragile and full of possibility at the same time. Every empty corner, every blue wall, felt like a blank canvas. Elin took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement. This was her bakery stripped down to its bones, waiting to be reborn. She could almost imagine the new counters, the freshly polished tables, the decorations carefully placed to honour both tradition and modernity.
Axton stood behind her, silently watching her take in the scene. He noticed the way her hands flexed slightly at her sides, the faint crease in her brow, and the subtle tilt of her head as she considered the possibilities. She wasn't just worried about the renovation itself; she was imagining what it would feel like to see the bakery full again, busy with customers, warm and lively.
"Looks different, doesn't it?" Axton said quietly, his voice low so as not to startle her.
Elin nodded slowly, still absorbing the sight. "It does," she admitted. "Empty like this... it feels strange, but also... possible. Like we can make it exactly how we want it."
Axton stepped closer, letting his presence calm the flutter of uncertainty in her chest. "You'll make it amazing," he said, with a quiet confidence that seemed to fill the empty room. "And I'll be here to help, every step of the way."
Two days later, the renovation at Bluebell Bakes was still in full swing. The walls were a brighter, fresher shade of blue, and the empty space echoed with the occasional clatter of tools and the hum of workers moving furniture and unpacking crates. Amid the chaos of sawdust and paint, Elin tried to focus on the little joys she could still manage—tasting a batch of her pastries, imagining where each counter would go, and planning her next creations.
Meanwhile, Axton had been busy at his own headquarters. He wasn't just handling his usual CEO responsibilities; he had dedicated the day to helping Elin in his own way.
He had arranged a private conference room, carefully vetting potential candidates who could assist with her bakery. He had done extensive research, reviewing resumes, checking references, and setting up interviews, all with the intent of finding the right people to share the workload with Elin.
Even when she had insisted that it wasn't necessary, that she could manage herself, Axton had refused to back down. He wanted to make sure she didn't burn out, that she had reliable help while the renovation and the reopening loomed.
"Just bake me some of the croissants that I love as a way to thank me," he had said over the call, his voice teasing but firm, a hint of insistence woven through the warmth.
Elin, at home in her kitchen, was already busy at work. Flour dusted the counter, bowls of dough rested under damp cloths, and the aroma of butter and yeast filled the room. She carefully prepared each croissant, folding the layers with precision, letting the familiar rhythm calm her racing thoughts.
Today wasn't just about vetting candidates or selecting the right person to help her manage the bakery. Elin realized with a start that she was looking forward to seeing Axton again. Her mind wandered through the memory of their lunch at the hawker centre, his laugh, the way he had fanned his mouth after the spicy crab, the gentle reassurance he always seemed to offer her.
She admitted to herself, quietly and a little uncomfortably, that this meeting was as much about her feelings for him as it was about the bakery.
She took a deep breath as she gathered the croissants into a basket, adjusting the cloth over them to keep them warm. Her heart fluttered slightly at the thought of walking into that conference room, facing Axton across the table, seeing his expression as he tasted the croissants she had baked for him.
Even though she had spent the past few months trying to protect herself, building walls around her heart after everything with Sebastian, she couldn't deny it any longer. She wanted a fresh start. Not just for the bakery, but for them. She wanted to see where they could go together, to step forward into something new, even if it meant risking the vulnerability she had worked so hard to guard.
When Elin stepped through the sleek glass doors of Axton's company building, a familiar tightness gripped her chest. Memories of the past months—of corporate chaos, of Sebastian's schemes, of every tense moment she had spent caught between deceit and fear—rushed back like an unwelcome tide.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, and she had to take a deep, steadying breath. She reminded herself that those days were behind her. She could not let fear dictate her choices, not when her heart was pulling her toward something she truly wanted.
The receptionist looked up as she approached the desk. Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she offered a warm, welcoming smile. "Miss Chen? It's good to see you again. I'll bring you to Mr. Creighton. Please, follow me."
Elin nodded, a faint blush colouring her cheeks, and allowed herself to be led through the maze of glass walls and quiet offices.
They arrived at a private conference room where a handful of people were waiting, quietly chatting among themselves. Elin's eyes scanned the room, realizing these must be the candidates her bakery could potentially hire. Each of them looked professional, attentive, and eager, the type of people who could bring competence and energy to Bluebell Bakes.
Elin's hand hesitated at the polished wooden door. She raised her knuckles and knocked lightly, but before she could even finish, the door swung open.
"I can smell your croissants," Axton said, grinning from ear to ear as he stood just inside the room.
His eyes lit up with warmth and amusement, and the sight of him made Elin's nervous tension melt slightly. The aroma of the fresh pastries she had brought filled the room, mingling with the scent of coffee and polished wood, and for a moment, all of the corporate fears and memories faded away.
Axton stepped aside, holding the door open, his smile both reassuring and teasing. "Come in, Elin. Don't just stand there."
Her heart fluttered as she stepped forward, feeling the familiar pull of emotions she had tried to set aside.
"Um, Axton?" Elin's voice wavered slightly as she stepped fully into the conference room, clutching the basket of croissants she had baked that morning.
He turned toward her, closing the door gently behind her. "Hm?" he replied, already reaching for the basket she had brought. "Man, I'm starving," he added with a grin.
Elin felt a warmth bloom in her chest at the sight of him, so at ease and casual, and she quickly offered him a piece of the croissant. He accepted it eagerly, plopping down in the nearest chair as he bit into it with obvious satisfaction. The flaky layers melted on his tongue, and he let out a soft hum of approval.
She watched him for a moment, a small smile tugging at her own lips, before collecting her thoughts. She shifted slightly, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the basket as she tried to steady her nerves. "Axton, when is the next interview?" she asked, her voice quieter now, a little hesitant.
"In fifteen minutes," he replied between bites, not taking his eyes off the pastry. "Why do you ask?"
Elin felt her cheeks warm. She had been replaying her thoughts over and over that morning while kneading dough and shaping pastries, and now, facing him, it all seemed harder to say. "Um...while I was baking earlier this morning," she began, her voice tentative, "I found myself thinking about...us. Not just the renovation or the bakery, of course, but...us."
Axton set down the croissant, his eyes locking onto hers. The playful spark softened into something warmer, more attentive. He leaned back slightly, studying her expression as if trying to read the unspoken words between them.
"I know we've both been busy," she continued, her fingers tightening slightly around the basket, "and I've tried to focus on the bakery and the renovations... but I can't stop thinking about you. About how we left things, and how I... I want to figure out if we can start fresh. If we can... be together, properly."
Axton reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Elin," he said softly, "I've been thinking about the same thing, more than you know. I just didn't want to pressure you, and I didn't want to mess anything up again."