Anabella's day had been surprisingly good for once. The bakery was busy but manageable, her customers were pleasant, and even Mr. Callum seemed more cheerful than usual. No missed calls. No probing texts. No mention of Daniel Ross or her failed marriage. Just the comforting aroma of bread baking and the hum of the ovens at work.
She allowed herself to relax, even smiling as she set a tray of warm pastries on the display shelf. This was the life she'd dreamed of—simple, steady, and far from the chaos of her past.
The little bell above the bakery's front door chimed softly, signaling another customer. Anabella turned, ready to greet whoever walked in—until she saw him.
Her blood ran cold.
Noah.
He strolled into the bakery with an easy, self-assured grace that made her stomach twist. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on her, unreadable yet piercing, just as she remembered.
