Chapter 7: In Her World

Sebastian's POV

I step into the bakery, the door chiming softly behind me as I take in the warm, familiar atmosphere. The air smells like freshly baked bread, and the sound of the oven timer beeping adds a comforting rhythm to the space. It’s strange, how much I’ve come to love this place.

The warmth is different from what I’m used to, more personal, more inviting. And it’s not just the scent of the place, or the quiet buzz of activity. It’s her. It’s Selina.

She’s standing by the counter, looking more alive today that she did when I found her sick in her house. I hadn’t realized how worried I was until I saw her there, pale and shivering, too stubborn to admit just how much she needed help. It was in that moment I knew, really knew, that I couldn’t let her go through anything like that alone. Not now. Not ever.

I don’t say it out loud, but I meant it. I meant every single word I whispered to myself as I took care of her. I promised myself I would always be there, no matter what. It felt… right. Like something inside me clicked into place the moment I wiped her forehead with that cool cloth.

Taking care of her, seeing her rest and slowly come back to herself, it stirred something in me I can’t quite explain. It felt like I was doing something I should have been doing for a long time. Something I was meant to do. Being there for her in a way no one else had.

I remember how she’d looked at me then, her eyes soft and vulnerable, the faintest tremor in her hands. It’s funny, how much those little details matter. How much her softness, her vulnerability, affects me in ways I didn’t expect.

There was something else, though, something that threw me off guard in a way I wasn’t expecting. Hearing her mention her mother, a weight settled in my chest, pulling at me in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“I miss her,” she had said, her voice breaking, the words so raw and unfiltered.

It hit me in a way that made me feel like I was the one responsible for the emptiness she must’ve felt. I know it’s illogical, but all I could think about in that moment was that I was the architect of the building that had collapsed. The one that had taken her mother’s life. I couldn’t help but feel this rush of guilt, a heaviness that pressed on my chest.

I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve done something to prevent it, to keep it from happening. But no matter how many times I replay that day in my mind, it doesn’t change anything. Her mother’s gone, and I’ll never be able to fix that.

Still, I couldn’t let her see that part of me. The guilt, the remorse. She didn’t need to know that. She needed me to be strong for her. To hold it together, like I promised I would.

And that’s when I decided, right then and there, that I was going to do whatever it took to make sure she never had to feel that kind of emptiness again. That no matter what happened, she wouldn’t be alone. Not with me around.

Today, when I walked into the bakery, I felt different. More focused, more aware of how much I care about her. How much I want to take care of her. The small things started to matter in a way they never had before. I wanted to be part of her world, even if it meant baking.

And I found myself laughing. I didn’t expect it to be fun, but it was. The flour dusting the counters, the gentle clink of utensils, the steady rhythm of us working side by side. It felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. With her.

I didn’t think it would be like this, though. I didn’t think I’d feel this connection. It’s hard to explain. But when we were baking together, I could feel something unspoken between us. Something more than just the shared task, more than the easy camaraderie we’d built over that past few weeks. There was something real, something raw in the way we worked together.

It was more than just chemistry. It was a bond. A connection I didn’t even realize I’d been craving. And I realized, as I watched her knead the dough, how much I wanted to be close to her. Not just in a passing, fleeting way. But in a way that went deeper than anything I’d ever experienced.

I don’t know if she felt it too, but I could sense the subtle shift in the air. When I looked at her, I could see the way her eyes softened when she caught me watching her. How she smiled when I said something stupid, or when she made a joke about the batter splattering everywhere. It wasn’t just about the baking, not really. It was about the way she was with me, how easy it felt to be near her, to laugh with her, to share something that was just ours.

I knew then that something had changed between us. I could feel it. I could feel it in the way I wanted to be near her, in the way my chest tightened when she smiled. It wasn’t just about helping her anymore. It was about being with her.

And the strangest thing was, I wasn’t scared of it.

I don’t know if she realized it, but I was falling for her. Slowly, quietly, and without warning. It wasn’t the grand gestures, or the dramatic moments that had done it. It was the small, everyday things. The way she moved around the kitchen, the way she laughed, the way she’d pause and look at me when we were talking.

I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to be closer to her. From wanting to make sure she was okay, from wanting to see that smile again.

There’s something about her that’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. It’s not just her beauty, although that’s undeniable. It’s how real she is. How unguarded. How she lets me in without pushing me away.

And I realize now, in this quiet moment as I stand here watching her move through the bakery, that I don’t want to just be the guy who takes care of her. I want to be the one who makes her happy.

It’s terrifying, in a way, because I never thought I’d want this. Want her. But it’s too late now. The way I feel for her is undeniable. It’s in every moment I spend with her. In every quiet glance we share.

I can’t stop thinking about her. And I don’t want to.

I look up as she catches my gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. I smile back, the warmth in my chest expanding. She’s not just the girl I’m helping anymore. She’s someone I want to protect. Someone I want to build a future with.

And as I watch her, I realize that what I’m feeling is something I’ve never felt before. It’s real. And it’s here to stay.