I take a deep breath of the cool night air, letting the city sounds wash over me.
For the first time today… I feel a spark of freedom.
I step forward, crossing the road.
Right in front of me, an expensive bakery glows under the night lights, its glass windows filled with delicate cakes and soft colors that look almost unreal.
Deniz follows immediately, his footsteps quick.
"Sir… are you okay?" he asks again.
I turn back to him and say, honestly, almost innocently, "I want to buy a cake."
His eyes widen in visible shock. He stares at me for a second, silent, as if his mind is struggling to process my words. Then he recovers, lowering his gaze politely.
"Sir, if you want anything, I can have it delivered. Please get back inside the car. The night air is cold—you might catch a cold."
I shake my head softly. "I want to buy it myself."
Confusion is written clearly on his face. After a brief pause, he nods. "Please wait for me."
He walks back to the car, retrieves my coat, then returns quickly. Without hesitation, he drapes it over my shoulders, adjusting it carefully.
"Sir, the night is cold. You should wear this."
I smile. A real smile.
"Thank you, Deniz. You really care about me."
He bows lightly. "It's my duty, sir."
I step into the bakery, warm air and sweet scents wrapping around me instantly. Deniz follows silently, like a shadow that never leaves.
Cakes.
So many of them. Different shapes, colors, flavors—each one more beautiful than the last.
My chest tightens.
I freeze.
The past crashes into my mind without warning.
"Neon, be a good boy."
Her voice echoes softly, painfully clear.
"Sit here and wait for me. I'll come back in half an hour."
I was fourteen.
That day, fourteen-year-old Neon sat quietly in the corner of the house, knees hugged to his chest, eyes fixed on the door. I believed her. I waited patiently, telling myself she would return—with a cake in her hands and a smile on her face.
Hours passed.
The sky darkened. Evening turned into night.
She never came back.
I stayed there, sitting alone in the corner, whispering softly into the empty house,
"Mama… when will you come back?"
Fear slowly crept into my chest, wrapping around my heart. The house felt too big. Too quiet.
Late that night, the door finally opened—but it wasn't her.
Dad stumbled inside, drunk, eyes red, voice sharp and broken. He shouted at me, anger spilling from him like poison. He told me everything.
That Mom loved someone else.
A rich man.
That she abandoned both of us.
I cried. I clung to his shirt, shaking my head again and again.
"She went to buy me a cake," I said through sobs. "She'll come back. She promised."
But she didn't.
Not that night.
Not the next day.
Not ever.
I waited anyway.
Every day, I sat in the same corner, staring at the door, believing she would return. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
Still… nothing.
Still… no cake. No mother.
Not even once.
Even now, I don't understand.
If she wanted to leave, why couldn't she tell me the truth?
Why lie to me?
Why make me wait… hoping… believing?
Why promise me a cake—
and leave me waiting forever?
"Sir…"
Deniz's voice pulls me out of the past.
I blink, the memories dissolving like mist. I straighten and smile softly. "Let's choose the best cake."
He nods.
I lean closer to the glass display, studying every flavor carefully. I don't have a favorite.
In my entire life… I could never afford one.
But Zyren Kael can.
He can afford everything.
I glance at Deniz. "Which one is delicious?"
He blinks, surprised by the question, then answers calmly, "Sir, every flavor has its own taste. They're all delicious."
I repeat his words quietly, tasting them in my mind.
Every flavor has its own taste…
A small smile curves my lips—soft, childlike.
"Then," I say gently, "I'll choose dark chocolate."
Deniz smiles—just a little—and says, "Dark chocolate is a good choice."
I nod, the way a child nods after making a brave decision. Then I blink and look at him.
"Which one is your favorite?"
He blinks back at me, clearly caught off guard. "Sir…?"
I glance toward the glass display again, pretending to study the cakes. "Hmm. Which one do you like?"
He hesitates. I can almost see the internal struggle—whether he's allowed to answer honestly. After a moment, he speaks softly, "Strawberry… with white cream, sir."
I turn to the shopkeeper.
"One strawberry cream cake," I say.
The shopkeeper nods immediately.
Deniz freezes, staring at me in disbelief.
I look back at him, amused. Of course he's shocked. Zyren Kael—the cold, ruthless villain—doesn't like sweets. He doesn't care about preferences. He certainly doesn't buy cakes for others.
But I do.
I like sweets.
And maybe… I like seeing him surprised.
The shopkeeper packs the cakes carefully, wrapping them neatly before handing them over. Deniz quickly takes the bags, still silent, still processing.
I step out of the bakery. Deniz follows behind me, quiet as ever
The car rolls into the Kael mansion grounds.
The iron gates slide open smoothly, and the headlights wash over the wide driveway. Guards straighten instantly. As the car stops, the door is opened for me.
I step out.
Maidservants stand in a neat row, perfectly aligned.
"Good evening, sir," they greet in unison.
I look at them, momentarily stunned.
This really feels like a drama.
Like a scene from a series.
For a brief second, I feel like a prince—someone who belongs in a place like this.
Deniz hands the bakery bags to a maid and turns to me. "Sir, my duty for today is over. Please allow me to take my leave."
He bows lightly.
I glance at the maid, then reach out and take the bag with the strawberry cake. I turn back to Deniz and hold it out to him.
His eyes flick to the bag—just for a moment—before dropping again.
"Sir…?"
"It's for you," I say gently.
He hesitates, clearly unsure. "Sir, I—"
"Take it," I repeat, calm but firm.
Slowly, respectfully, he raises his hands and accepts the bag.
"Thank you very much, sir," he says softly.
I smile.
Around us, the staff freeze.
Eyes widen. Breath stills.
Zyren Kael… smiling?
Giving a cake away?
They quickly lower their gazes, pretending not to notice—but the shock lingers in the air.
I ignore it. I look at Deniz instead.
"Go get a good sleep," I say. "You worked hard all day."
He nods, eyes warm but controlled.
"Thank you again, sir."
He turns to leave, holding the cake carefully, as if it's something precious.
I stand there for a moment longer, watching his retreating back.
Maybe…
This is how things begin to change.