Ice knocked on the door to the back office and stepped inside. His mom was at her desk, reviewing inventory.
"Oh, I was just about to check on you, baby boy," she said warmly, rising to give him a hug.
"It's okay, Ma. We're just here to use the back kitchen," he replied, comforted as always by her presence. No matter how busy she was, she had a way of making everything feel like home.
"Hey, is that your girlfriend?" she asked, peeking past the door with a mischievous grin.
He quickly shut the door behind him. "Ma," he protested, though her teasing wasn't unexpected.
"I saw you on the CCTV. You two look good together. She's really pretty!" his mom teased, her tone affectionate.
He rolled his eyes. "She's just my lab partner. I need to teach her. She's not that good, so if I don't help, she'll drag me down."
Her eyes twinkled with curiosity. "First time you've brought someone here. She must be special, right?"
"I'm leaving, Ma."
"Alright, alright, but you two do look great together. Just take care of her," she added with a smile.
"I'll be back," he muttered as he left the office.
He inserted the key into the doorknob and turned it, the soft click unlocking the way to the back kitchen. As he opened the door, Fire was right behind him, till wide-eyed, scanning every corner of the room like she was on some sort of field trip.
"Wow, this is so cute! Looks like there are a lot of memories that were made here," she said brightly, scanning the room.
Ice froze, caught off guard.
What?
He had expected complaints about how old everything looked or how cramped the space felt compared to the main bakery. The kitchen was filled with scratched-up utensils and aging appliances that groaned when used. But everything still worked. Everything was safe.
The design hadn't changed—not out of laziness, but by choice. He and his mom had agreed to preserve the nostalgia. This place held memories.
This was where the four of them used to crowd together, flour everywhere, arms bumping as they tried to perfect the same pastries they made today.
The kitchen's interior was plain: scuffed white walls, creaky wooden counters, and pale yellow curtains hanging over narrow windows. Nothing about it was carefully curated or styled. It was simply what they could afford at the time.
But they had made it work.
This kitchen wasn't designed for looks. It was built on effort, failure, and persistence.
And somehow, she understood that.
She actually got it.
The kitchen was tucked behind the main shop, hidden from customers and separated from the modern workspace. To most, it would seem forgotten. But to him, it was the heart of everything. It was where he and his mom had put in the real work—where the foundation of the bakery was formed.
"Right. Let's start," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as warmth settled in his chest.
He hadn't expected her to say something like that. In his mind, she was a brat who would grumble about the outdated space. But instead, she saw its value.
An hour slipped by without notice. Fire, surprisingly, wasn't a disaster. She listened, nodded when he gave instructions, and smiled with enthusiasm—but it wasn't just playful energy. She was focused, determined. He could see it in the way she held the piping bag, her small movements steady and intentional.
Teaching her didn't feel like a chore anymore. He found himself enjoying it.
He watched as she carefully decorated the first batch. "I think decorating is your thing. This is really good," he said, offering a rare compliment. Her hands were impressively steady.
"Really!?" she beamed, eyes shining in disbelief. It wasn't just joy on her face—it was genuine surprise, like she hadn't expected him to say anything kind.
He nodded. Before he could process the reaction, she jumped with excitement, bouncing like a kid. Normally, that would have irritated him. But today, he didn't have the heart to stop her.
"Okay, let's try some cupcakes. You'll make and decorate them, okay?" he said, nudging the session forward.
"Aye aye, Captain!" she replied with a salute and that endless energy.
Where did she even get it?
She began pulling ingredients from the counter, and he stood there for a moment, watching her. Maybe she just needed time. Maybe she wasn't as hopeless as he thought.
The landline by the fridge rang. He answered quickly—a brief conversation with his mom who needed help up front.
"Hey, I need to run to the shop real quick. I'll be back," he called out.
"Okay!" she replied without looking up, laser-focused on the cupcakes.
He left the kitchen and returned to the front, where chaos greeted him. The cold season had taken out several employees, and the shop was slammed. He jumped in to help, managing deliveries and refilling the pastry display.
Time passed quickly.
Then he remembered Fire. They needed to leave soon…
Hands in his pockets, he made his way back, rounding the corner—only to be met with a plume of smoke drifting from the kitchen.
Damn it, Fire...
He sprinted forward, heart skipping. What had she done now? Was she seriously about to set the place on fire?