The bakery was alive with the hum of Christmas chaos. The ovens glowed, releasing waves of cinnamon and ginger into the air, while counters overflowed with pies, cookies, and carefully wrapped boxes tied in red and gold ribbons. Holly’s apron was dusted with flour, her hair pulled back in a practical knot, and her hands moved with practiced speed—checking lists, sliding trays, tying bows. December 23rd was always the busiest day of the year, but this time, the rush carried a strange kind of joy.
Lee had stopped by earlier, bringing her coffee and a smile that lingered in her chest long after he left. They were in a good place, steady and warm, and for once Holly felt like she was standing on solid ground.
But good things rarely lasted long.
The bell above the bakery door jingled sharply
