Her fingers curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt.
As if even in sleep… she knew he was all she had left.
Their clothes were clean—but carefully so.
The kind of clean that comes from effort, not ease.
Their shoes—thin, worn, uneven—told the truth their silence tried to hide.
They had walked far.
Too far.
Inside, the bakery gleamed like a different universe.
Golden light spilled through tall glass windows, catching on polished marble and glass displays. Pastries shimmered like art—perfect, untouched, almost unreal.
This was a place where people didn’t wonder if they belonged.
They knew they did.
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