One weekend, two months after I moved away, I was working the register at the bakery.
A man walked through the shop door.
It was Ewan Chandler, Ezra's childhood best friend.
He froze the second he spotted me, clearly stunned.
"Nina? What are you doing here?"
I hesitated for a split second. "Don't tell Ezra you saw me."
Ewan looked conflicted, but he finally nodded.
He bought two loaves of bread but didn't leave right away. Instead, he sat down at a corner table, took a bite, and mumbled, "Did you bake these? They taste amazing."
"I didn't make them. I just help out at the shop."
He fell quiet for another moment, seeming hesitant.
"Nina, there's something... I'm not sure if I should tell you."
"Go ahead."
"Something's been off on Ezra's end lately."
I said nothing, waiting for
