The Pastry and the Promise
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Summary
The first person I saw from my old life after leaving Northwood was Rosalind.
It was a heavy snow day. She walked into my little bakeshop, her belly slightly rounded with pregnancy, and ordered a slice of matcha mousse.
The reunion was so sudden it stunned us both into silence.
We stared at each other for a long moment before finally managing a greeting.
She asked me why I’d gotten into baking. I told her it was something I loved.
She took the neatly packaged cake box from my hands but didn’t leave, her figure hesitating by the door. The snow fell in a quiet, thick blanket outside.
