The following morning, she tied her hair into a low bun and applied minimal makeup, hoping to blend in. She drove across town, parking a block away from the bakery to avoid being noticed. As she stepped inside, the smell of fresh pastries and brewing coffee enveloped her.
The bakery was charming, its warm, rustic decor inviting customers to linger. Emily felt a pang of resentment; this place exuded a warmth she hadn't felt in her own home in years.
She approached the counter, her heart racing as her eyes scanned the room. Bianca was there, arranging pastries in a glass display case. She looked exactly as she had in the photos...effortlessly radiant, her smile lighting up the room as she exchanged pleasantries with a customer.
Emily took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reached for a menu. She hadn't decided what she would do yet. Was she here to confirm her fears or confront the truth head-on?
