Our Second Forever

Chapter 3

Alina’s POV

I didn’t expect to see him. Not here. Not now. Not after all these years.

The bell above the bakery door rang just like it always did, and I turned around with a tray of cinnamon rolls in my hand, ready to greet whoever walked in with my usual smile.

Then I saw him.

Elijah.

For a second, my heart stopped. I forgot to breathe. My fingers went numb, and I nearly dropped the tray.

He was just standing there. Taller, broader than I remembered. Dressed in a black jacket that made him look even more serious. His eyes swept the room like he didn’t belong in it. Then they landed on me.

Our eyes locked.

And just like that, six years of trying to forget came crashing down.

I stood frozen. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t even blink. I didn’t know if I should pretend I didn’t recognize him or run out the back door and never come back.

But he didn’t say anything either. His expression didn’t change. No surprise. No warmth. Just cold, quiet shock.

Then his gaze shifted to the corner of the bakery, where Sophie was still coloring.

I panicked.

“Hi,” I said, finally finding my voice, even if it shook a little. “Welcome to Miss Tilda’s. Can I help you?”

His eyes moved back to me slowly. I saw it then. The hurt. The anger. And worst of all the hate. That look in his eyes crushed me more than any insult ever could.

He didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked out.

I stood there, staring at the door, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Mommy?” Sophie’s voice brought me back.

I turned quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“Who was that man?”

I paused. “Just a customer.”

She frowned a little but didn’t push. Thank God. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for him.

Why was he here?

Why now?

I finished my shift somehow, even though my head was spinning the entire time. When we got home that evening, I paced the living room while Sophie played with her stuffed animals. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elijah’s face. And that look. Like he hated me.

I couldn’t blame him.

He had every right.

He didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know what my father did how he used Elijah’s sick sister against me, how he threatened to let her suffer if I didn’t end things. He didn’t know I cried myself to sleep for weeks after pushing him away. Or how I dropped out of college alone, pregnant, and scared.

He didn’t know Sophie was his.

I never told him.

Because he was gone. Because I thought he’d never come back. And because I was afraid.

Now he was here.

And I didn’t know what to do.