Chapter Thirty-Six

The alarm buzzed before the sun rose.

Kaelani silenced it with a groan, rolling onto her side. The quiet felt thicker than usual, like the morning was holding its breath. She sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, toes pressed against the cool floor.

It had been two days since she returned the dress.

Two days since she carried that box — the same one he left on her doorstep — back into the boutique and handed it over with finality.

And oddly enough, she hadn’t seen him since.

Maybe she expected him to show up — demand to know why she returned it, why she rejected his “gift.”

Maybe…

she even wondered if she was disappointed that he hadn’t.

She scoffed softly at herself, shaking the thought away as she padded barefoot into the kitchen. She pressed the button on the coffee maker and leaned against the counter, arms folded.

Maybe he finally understood.

That his visits, his expensive gifts, his half-assed attempts to rewrite what he did —

they weren’t welcome here.

And yet, as she stood there in the half-light, arms wrapped tightly around herself, Kaelani couldn’t quite shake the weight sitting in her chest.

Because absence, it turned out, could echo louder than presence ever did.

It was his fault she felt this way.

He should’ve just left her alone.

Continued to be a memory she hoped would eventually fade.

Let her move on with the quiet little life she built for herself.

But no.

He had to keep coming back.

Keep looking at her like she was something he couldn’t decide to throw away or keep.

As if she would ever let him believe he had that kind of power over her.

She didn’t understand him. Not even a little.

That morning after they’d been together — when everything was still raw, still trembling beneath the surface — he made it clear.

He wanted nothing to do with her.

Wanted no ties.

No future.

Not even a conversation.

So why had he kept showing up?

Why couldn’t he just stay away?

What the hell did he want?

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t matter.

That was what she kept telling herself — over and over like a mantra she desperately wanted to believe.

But if he truly didn’t matter…

then why was that feeling still there?

That dull pressure in her chest.

An ache.

No — an emptiness.

Like something had been carved out of her and left hollow.

Had it always been there?

Had she just gotten used to it — ignored it — until he came along and reminded her what it felt like to want something more?

To almost believe she could have it… only for him to snatch it away.

Dangle it in front of her like a cruel joke.

Did she even deserve more?

Did she deserve love?

The question settled heavy in her soul — because somewhere along the way, after years of being overlooked, unwanted, and left behind, Kaelani had started to believe that maybe love was just something she wasn’t meant to expect. Something reserved for other people. Softer people. Whole people.

Not her.

She sipped her coffee, letting the heat bleed into her palms, grounding her in the stillness of the morning.

Later, she stepped into the shower, tilting her head beneath the stream as steam curled around her like fog. The water was hot — nearly scalding — but no matter how long she stood there, it didn’t thaw the cold lodged deep in her bones.

A cold that had nothing to do with the weather… and everything to do with being reminded of what she’d never had.

Of what she thought she didn’t need.

Until someone made her feel like maybe… just maybe… she did.

For a few days, at least.

Until even he treated her like she was unlovable.

Until his words cut deeper than his silence ever could.

Until the desire in his eyes turned to something colder. Until his touch disappeared, yet lingered on her skin like an unspoken sin. Until she was left holding all the weight of what they shared—alone.

Like she always was.

Like she was meant to be.

She stepped out of the shower slowly, water dripping from her skin, steam curling around her ankles like the ghost of something she couldn’t quite shake.

The cold still clung to her.

But she ignored it.

Wrapped in a towel, Kaelani moved through the motions—dressing in a soft tee and jeans, nothing fancy. Just enough to feel covered. Present. Human.

She stood at the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth, then patting her face dry before smoothing on a light layer of moisturizer. Her skin care routine was simple, practiced, automatic. A small act of control in a world where everything else felt unsteady.

She parted her hair with deft fingers and began weaving it into a braid.

Tight.

Neat.

Contained.

Just like her.

Because now wasn’t the time to fall apart.

Now was the time to stuff all those feelings back into the box they came from.

To seal the lid.

To lock it tight.

She’d learned a long time ago—weakness was dangerous.

The world didn’t feel sorry for the broken.

It didn’t offer kindness or healing.

It sent vultures.

And vultures didn’t just feed on pain.

They exploited it.

Used it to twist the knife.

To shatter what little strength you had left.

And that…

That was one thing she would never give anyone the power to do.

Kaelani locked the door behind her and stepped out into the crisp morning air, the sky still bruised with shades of lavender and pale gray. She drew her coat tighter around herself and crossed the quiet street to the bakery.

Saturday.

She closed at noon every Saturday — her favorite day. Short, sweet, and busy enough to keep her mind occupied.

The scent of flour and vanilla still clung faintly to the place as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. She flipped on the lights, the warm glow casting soft golden hues across the counters and wide glass windows. The space was still and silent, just the way she liked it before the rush began.

She moved through her opening routine without needing to think: switching on the ovens, setting trays on the prep table, pulling out ingredients from the cold storage. By the time the ovens were preheated, the first batches of lemon-poppy seed muffins and cinnamon-glazed twists were ready to go in.

While they baked, she brewed the coffee — dark roast, always — and cleaned off the counter space near the front. The smell of pastries and fresh coffee began to wrap around her like a second skin, comforting and grounding in its familiarity.

The soft ding of the oven timer snapped her out of her thoughts. She pulled the pastries from the oven, letting the steam fog up the glass for a moment before carefully loading the warm goods into the front display case.

She flipped the sign on the door to OPEN, the small bell above it jingling softly, and moved back to start prepping the next round — blueberry scones and a batch of pecan shortbread.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement through the large front windows.

A familiar truck slowed to a stop out front.

She didn’t need to squint to know who it was. Tessa. And Jeff, behind the wheel.

Kaelani kept her hands busy, eyes glancing up only briefly as the couple shared a kiss in the cab before Tessa hopped out, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder and jogging toward the bakery’s front door.

Kaelani’s expression didn’t change, but her stomach clenched — just a little.

She didn’t linger on it.

She just reached for the next bowl of ingredients and kept moving.

“Morning,” Tessa greeted, the bell above the bakery door chiming softly as she stepped inside.

Kaelani glanced up from the counter, offering a small smile. “Morning,” she echoed, eyes flicking over her friend’s outfit — the same one from yesterday.

She raised a brow. “You stayed the night at his place again, I see.”

Tessa gave a sheepish nod, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. “Busted.”

Kaelani paused, reaching for a tray of pecan shortbread and sliding it into the oven. “You two are getting kind of serious, huh?”

Tessa shrugged, but the blush creeping up her cheeks said more than words. “I guess we are,” she murmured.

Kaelani leaned her hip against the counter, tilting her head with a quiet smile. “I’ve never seen you with someone this long.”

Tessa chuckled, ducking her head. “Yeah, well… I really like him.” Her voice softened, her smile turning dreamy. “And the sex? Kaelani… it’s incredible.”

Kaelani gave a soft laugh, brow raised. “Oh?”

“I used to think it was only good when it was all hard, fast, a bit animalistic,” Tessa admitted with a mischievous grin. “But him? He makes love to me. Slow. Gentle. Like I’m… sacred or something.”

Her voice softened, almost reverent, stars lighting up her eyes.

Kaelani smiled at her friend — not one of those fake smiles she’d been forcing for weeks, but something softer. Real. “Tess, that’s… beautiful.”

But as she listened to her friend gush about being cherished — touched with tenderness — a quiet thought drifted in.

What’s that like?

And then she felt it again — that dull ache curling low in her chest.

Because all she’d ever known was the animalistic kind.

Tessa leaned against the counter, sipping from a fresh cup of coffee. “Hey… do you know Michael?”

Kaelani looked up from her prep station. “Michael who?”

“You know, the one who works over at the pharmacy on Maple?”

Kaelani’s brow lifted. “Oh. Michael.” She nodded slowly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Yeah, I’ve seen him around. Tall, kind of quiet?”

Tessa grinned. “That’s the one. He’s Jeff’s cousin.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And apparently — he’s single.” Her tone turned playful. “And cute. I was thinking… maybe we could double date sometime?”

Kaelani let out a light laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, Tess. That’s sweet, but… no thank you.”

Tessa caught the subtle shift — the tight edge to her smile, the flicker of something tired behind her eyes. She didn’t press.

Instead, she nodded, understanding in her gaze. “Okay,” she said gently. “Just putting it out there.”

The rest of the morning passed in its usual rhythm — customers trickled in for their Saturday treats, the scent of cinnamon and sugar warming the space as sunlight spilled through the windows. Kaelani moved with grace and skill, filling orders, wiping down counters, offering smiles that didn’t always reach her soul but were warm enough to be convincing.

And just before noon — as always — she began her last ritual of the week.

She gathered the leftover dough from the past several days — the remnants she’d tucked away and chilled for this exact purpose. She rolled and shaped them into soft pastries, this time keeping them low-sugar, some even sweetened with applesauce or honey.

These weren’t for customers.

They were for the children at the Tiny Trails Learning Center — a small facility a few blocks away that served kids with disabilities and special needs. Some had families, some didn’t. But Kaelani made sure they had something warm, something special, every Saturday.

It was the one tradition she never skipped.

No matter how heavy the week had been.

Kaelani secured the bakery door and glanced down at the red wooden wagon beside her, stacked neatly with two boxes of pastries, each labeled with the day’s date and “Tiny Trails” written in black marker. It was a simple tradition, but one she looked forward to. She gripped the handle and began the short walk toward the learning center, the wagon’s small wheels squeaking softly as they rolled over the sidewalk.

Tessa lingered at the curb. “Enjoy your time with the kiddos. And call me tomorrow, okay? I’ll come over, we can veg out and watch movies or something.”

Kaelani gave her a genuine smile. “Sounds perfect. I’ll text you.”

They parted ways, and Kaelani continued toward Tiny Trails Learning Center, nestled on the quiet end of Glen Road. The closer she got, the lighter her chest felt.

The moment she reached the gate, a chorus of cheers erupted. “Miss Kaelani!”

Several small arms wrapped around her legs before she could even close it behind her. She chuckled, steadying the wagon as she greeted each eager child by name. Inside, she helped the staff set up the snack tables, portioning out the sugar-free lemon muffins and low-sugar cinnamon swirls. Afterward, she settled into her usual spot on the rug, a book open in her lap, her voice animated as the kids gathered close. They played a few quiet games afterward — stacking blocks, tracing their names, giggling over Kaelani’s exaggerated storytelling voices.

By 2:30, she gave her goodbyes, promising more treats next Saturday, and began walking back toward the bakery. The wagon was lighter now, and the air was warm with just a hint of afternoon breeze.

She turned onto Sycamore Street, not quite halfway to the bakery, when she saw him.