You pushed off the wall and nodded toward the door. "Come on," you said, your voice warmer now. "Let’s get you something to eat while we talk." Lena hesitated, then followed you back inside, her shoes scuffing against the worn wooden floor. The bakery’s warmth enveloped you both, the scent of rising dough and caramelizing sugar thick in the air. You motioned for her to take a seat at the small table by the window, where the morning light painted the surface in gold.

Behind the counter, you poured a steaming cup of coffee—black, just like your grandmother used to drink—and placed a still-warm almond croissant on a chipped plate. The croissant’s layers glistened with butter, flakes of pastry crumbling at the slightest touch. You set them in front of Lena, who stared at the food like it was a mirage. "Go ahead," you urged, leaning against the counter opposite her. "It’s better when it’s fresh."

Lena’s hands trembled as she lifted the croissant, taking a small, hesitant bite. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were brighter. "This is... incredible," she murmured, brushing crumbs from her lips. You smiled, watching the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. The coffee steam curled between you, carrying the rich, earthy scent.

Outside, the first drops of rain began to patter against the window. You glanced at the ledger lying open on the counter, the numbers glaring back at you. Then you looked at Lena—really looked at her. The way her fingers cradled the cup like it was something precious. The way she’d said your grandmother saved her brother. The bakery’s walls seemed to hum around you, as if the building itself was waiting for your decision.