Elena stood rooted behind the counter, her chest rising and falling slowly as she tried to steady her breath. She watched Miss Anne disappear into the evening crowd through the glass door, and only then did her lungs finally release the tight breath she had been holding.
She sighed—deep, weary, trembling. She knew fully well that the war had officially started. Miss Anne was no longer hiding her intentions. She had shown her face clearly, boldly, and with no shame. And though Miss Anne had left the bakery, her presence still lingered like a shadow waiting just behind the door.
Elena’s mother stepped carefully toward her from behind the counter and placed both hands gently on her daughter’s shoulders. “We’ll fight this together,” she said softly but firmly, her voice carrying the strength
