All Chapters of Till death murder us apart: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lisha had requested to live with her dad for the time being, although Mr Wellis didn’t quite understand that he has to see Dave’s face everyday, for Lisha he would agree to anything. He quickly arranged a nursery room for the coming sweet child in just hours, after all he is the rich Mr Wellis. They had arrived in their new home exactly nine hours. They had fed the baby. Changed the baby. Admired the baby. Taken 47 photos of the baby doing absolutely nothing. Lisha’s old room was the couple’s temporary room for the stay. Dave was truly amazed with what he saw.“Such a big house, seems comfortable “ Dave states walking toward the nursery room.“I know right, imagine I left all this for you “ Those words pierced through Dave’s heart. She was not wrong , she did leave a comfortable life just to be tormented by love . By 11:58 p.m., they were confident.“She’s asleep,” Dave districting the sad mood “Don’t,” Lisha warned.“Relax. I’ve got this parenting thing down.”The baby monitor crac

Going back home was a tough decision for Dave but he knew he had to get up and face being a man and most importantly being a dad. Weeks pass by of Dave being a trying father. The email came at 08:12 a.m. Dave had been awake since 5:30 — not because of the baby this time, but because of hope. He sat at the small dining table in a button-up shirt and pajama pants, laptop open, refreshing his inbox like the act itself might change his future. **“Thank you for your application…”** His stomach dropped before he even finished reading. “…we regret to inform you…” He closed the laptop slowly. Rejected. Again. From the bedroom, he could hear Lisha softly singing to the baby. Off-key. Gentle. Tired. He pressed his fingers into his eyes. He had rewritten his CV three times. Watched interview tips. Practiced answers in the mirror. “Why should we hire you?” “Because I’ll work harder than anyone else.” Apparently, not hard enough. His phone buzzed. Another email. He didn’t want to o

“What is his name again?, the man who scammed you”.“Well it was two men but they said their boss wan a guy named Erikson Raymond “.“Aha!, no wonder I dislike that man”.“You know him sir?”“Yes , I see him at the golf course from time to time, don’t worry I’ll sort it out”.“Thank you so much sir”,“You welcome, and by the way I still don’t like you I’m going this for Lisha and Ava “.“He definitely likes you “, Lisha whispers to Dave “I can hear you and I don’t like him, let’s just go home already “. The next morning the sun sat perfectly over the greens of the country golf estate — the kind of place where deals were made between swings and handshakes.Mr Wellis adjusted his cap, squinting toward the ninth hole. Across the lawn stood the man he had come to see. Mr Erikson. Polished shoes. Expensive clubs. The relaxed posture of a man who owned things — including, unfortunately, Dave’s old bakery. Mr Wellis smiled to himself.“Let’s play.”He “accidentally” shanked his first shot,

The restaurant glittered with expensive lighting and louder laughter. Mr Wellis arrives with his “PA” ready for business.Mr Erikson raised his glass. “To partnership,” he said smoothly.Dave could barely sit still. His old bakery — the ovens, the wooden counter, the smell of cinnamon at 5 a.m. — it was finally coming back into reach.Well… almost.“Well I never knew you will decide this quickly Mt Erickson”“I figured out that even if I give you the Golden crust I have nothing to lose besides you are a good business partner Mr man “.Earlier that afternoon, Erikson had leaned back in his office chair and delivered the condition with a smile.“You may buy shares,” he said. “Forty percent.”Dave’s excitement had dimmed slightly.“And ownership?” Mr Wellis had asked calmly.“I remain sole owner,” Erikson replied. “ Golden crust stays with me.”Dave’s jaw had tightened.But Mr Wellis had smiled. “Of course.”Now, seated at a polished table with steak and expensive wine between them, Erik

The new house smelled like fresh paint, new furniture… and cinnamon bread.Dave insisted on bringing some pastries from the bakery, even though Lisha kept telling him, “It’s a housewarming, not a bakery convention.”But Dave had placed trays everywhere anyway. On the kitchen island. On the coffee table. Even beside the flowers.Above the doorway hung a wooden sign that read:**WELCOME HOME**And on the dining table sat a framed photo of the newest pride of Dave’s growing business:**LOVE AVA BAKERY – SECOND BRANCH NOW OPEN**Guests filled the living room, laughing and chatting. Bakery workers, friends, neighbors — everyone proud of how far Dave had come.Dave stood near the window holding little Eva, who was chewing on the ribbon of a balloon. Lisha walked up beside him and wrapped her arm around his waist.“Second branch owner,” she teased. “Mr Big Business.”Dave shook his head. “I still wake up thinking someone will call and say it was a mistake.”“Well,” she said, smiling, “it was