Chapter 8 : Intent

Damien

I’m back at her bakery.

I’m not even pretending to be subtle about it this time. I didn’t take a detour. I didn’t slow my pace and consider turning away. I walked straight here with purpose.

But I brought Theo.

That’s my one defence. Or maybe my excuse.

“Dad,” he says as we stand just outside the door, “can I get whatever i want ”

I glance down at him. His cheeks are already flushed from the morning sun, curls springing in every direction, his little hands jammed into the pockets of his too-small coat. I should remind him that we are just here to order a cake but honestly, my head’s elsewhere.

Mainly behind that door.

“I think we can manage that, but just one whatever you want” I say, pushing the door open.

The bell chimes softly.

She’s there. Of course she is.

Aria.

Her back is to us, adjusting something behind the counter. There’s flour on her apron, a smudge on her wrist. She’s humming—quiet, tuneful, unaware of the shift in my chest just from looking at her.

And then she turns.

I watch it—the recognition flicker in her eyes, the slight stiffening of her posture, the way she glances quickly at Theo and then back to me. She recovers fast, like always, but I know her well enough to see the ripple underneath.

Theo walks right up to the counter and grins up at her like she’s already his favourite person. “Hi! I’m Theo. Do you remember me from the grown people party . I remember you.”

Aria blinks. Then something warm breaks through the surface of her guarded expression.

“Hi, Theo,” she says gently. “Of course I remember you, you are the bravest boy.”

Theo beams. “Dad said we can get cake today. Can we?”

I clear my throat. “Actually, I was hoping to place an order. For a birthday cake. His birthday. This Saturday.”

She hesitates. Just a breath.

Then she nods, business-like. “Okay. What kind?”

Theo hops up on his tiptoes, practically vibrating. “I want chocolate and caramel and marshmallows and maybe sprinkles and a tiny spaceship…”

“A spaceship?” Aria echoes, mouth twitching.

Theo nods solemnly. “It’s space-themed. I’m going to be seven. That means I’m basically an astronaut. Because 6 just means you are an agent and I’m tired of that”

“I see.” Her eyes flick to mine briefly, something soft behind them before it’s gone. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I told him your cakes were magic,” I say, more to fill the silence than anything else. “That’s probably where the spaceship idea came from.”

She doesn’t look up. “You shouldn't have done that. Now I have to live up to Von Adler expectations.”

There’s a hint of teasing in her tone. Barely. But I catch it.

“You’ve always exceeded expectations,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

This time, she does look at me. It’s brief, searching. Her hands stay busy, writing on the order pad, her pen steady even when her voice isn’t.

“I’ll have it ready for pickup Saturday morning.”

I nod and watch as Theo presses his face against the glass of the bakery display, his breath fogging up a little circle as he scans the rows of pastries with all the solemnity of a diplomat choosing dessert for a world peace summit.

“Alright, astronaut,” I say, crouching beside him. “Mission: pick your treat.”

He hums thoughtfully. “There’s too many options. What’s that swirly thing?”

“That,” Aria says, stepping around the counter, “is the galaxy swirl. Chocolate and vanilla braided with raspberry glaze. And edible glitter.”

Theo spins to face her. “Edible glitter is real?”

She nods. “In this bakery, it is.”

He turns to me, wide-eyed. “Dad, I don’t know what to choose. There’s too much cool stuff.”

I glance at Aria, half-smiling. “Any chance you’ve got a secret menu for overwhelmed space explorers?”

She lifts a brow, then disappears into the back without a word. A moment later, she returns with a plate of three perfectly golden, still-warm mini muffins. There’s powdered sugar on top like fresh snow.

“These aren’t in the case,” she says, placing them gently on the counter in front of Theo. “They’re from my special menu.”

Theo’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Special like… secret?”

She nods. “Very exclusive. Kiddie-tested, adult-approved.”

“What kind are they?”

She taps each one. “Blueberry lemon zest. Banana-chocolate chip. Strawberry shortcake.”

“I want all of them,” he whispers.

“Start with one, buddy,” I say, though I can’t help smiling.

He grabs the blueberry one, takes a big bite and freezes. He chews slowly, eyes going wide. Then he places a dramatic hand over his chest.

“Dad,” he says in a stage whisper. “This is… insane.”

“Good insane or should I call the doctor insane?”

“The best insane,” he says reverently. “Like if happiness had a flavour.”

A laugh slips out of Aria before she can stop it. It’s light and sudden....like hearing summer sneak into the dead of winter. It does something to me I don’t have the words for.

“Careful,” she says, her mouth twitching. “He might write a poem next.”

“I will!” Theo declares, muffin crumbs flying. “You don’t even know. I’m great at rhyming. ‘There once was a muffin, so sweet and divine…’” He pauses. “Wait. What rhymes with divine?”

“Porcupine,” I say, deadpan.

Theo looks betrayed. “No.”

Aria actually snorts. The sound makes something in my chest ache.

I tuck my hands into my coat pockets, watching her smile, watching her laugh. I want to say more. Ask if she’s okay. If she’s sleeping. If she ever thinks about me. About us. About what we were. What we could’ve been.

But then--

“Dad, are you flirting?”

My head snaps toward Theo.

Aria freezes.

“What?” I say, half-laughing, half-horrified.

Theo shrugs. “You sound like Uncle Spencer when he talks to the waitress at brunch.”

Aria presses a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh again. Her eyes dart toward me, curious, cautious.

“Okay,” I say quickly, straightening up. “Time to get the astronaut his swirl thingy before he breaks into interpretive muffin poetry.”

Aria rings us up. Her professional mask slips back on, but her voice is a little softer when she hands over the bag. “I’ll have the cake ready by nine. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” I say. Then, quietly, “Thank you, Aria.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just meets my gaze for half a second longer than necessary.

“You’re welcome, Damien.”

We leave. The door closes behind us.

Theo’s already unwrapping the galaxy swirl, humming something about muffins and stars as he skips ahead on the sidewalk. But I pause, glancing back at the window.

The reflection of my face stares back at me, but my mind’s still inside.

She’s still in there. Still close. Still real.

I didn’t plan to bring Theo here. Not really. But maybe—maybe I hoped he’d do what I couldn’t.

Because she looked at him like he was just a kid. Not a consequence. Not a reminder. Not something born of betrayal. Just… a boy.

And that meant something.

I’m not trying to be obvious.

But I can’t help it.

I’m a man in love. And I don’t think I ever stopped being one. I have stayed away for six years but the gala changed something.

I’ll come back again. With or without cake orders. With or without excuses.

Because this?

This isn’t over.

Not for me.