It started with the scent.
Acrid, unfamiliar. Sharp, cutting through the sweet notes of cinnamon and rising bread.
Ava looked up from the counter of Sweet Haven, nose wrinkling.
The ovens were off.
No one was burning anything.
She glanced toward the kitchen, where Ethan and June were plating a fresh batch of lemon shortbread. "Do you smell that?"
Ethan lifted his head, frowning. "Yeah. That's not... normal."
Then came the sound.
A soft crackle.
A hiss.
A muffled thump, like something collapsing.
June dropped her tray. "Something's wrong."
They rushed outside.
Smoke was billowing from the rear of the building—the side that housed the storage room and herb greenhouse. It curled into the summer sky in dark tendrils.
Ava's heart slammed against her ribs. "No, no, no—"
"Call the fire department!" Ethan shouted to June as he grabbed Ava's hand. "We need to check the back—quick!"
They raced around the side of the bakery. Heat shimmered against the bricks. Ava choked on the smoke as they neared the greenhouse.
And then she saw it.
Flames.
Licking up the glass structure, crackling along the edge like hungry mouths. The herbs inside—lavender, rosemary, mint—were already shriveled and blackening.
"The greenhouse—" she gasped. "Ethan, we need to stop it before it spreads to the bakery!"
Ethan pulled his shirt over his mouth, eyes scanning the area. "The garden hose—where is it?"
"Over there!" she pointed, coughing.
He sprinted to the spigot and yanked the hose free, dousing the edge of the fire with a sharp spray of water. Ava ran to help, grabbing a metal bucket and filling it at the outdoor tap.
Sirens wailed in the distance, a haunting sound that grew louder.
But the fire wasn't waiting.
Glass exploded. A wooden beam near the greenhouse door split in two, crashing to the ground.
Ava screamed as a gust of heat threw her back. Ethan dropped the hose, shielding her with his body.
"Stay back!" a voice shouted. A firefighter rushed in, helmet glinting. "We've got it now. You two—move to the front. It's not safe back here!"
Ethan hesitated.
But then he saw the look on Ava's face—smoke-streaked, wide-eyed, trembling.
He nodded, pulling her to her feet. "Come on. We go."
An Hour Later
The fire was contained, but the damage was clear.
The greenhouse was gone.
The wall adjoining the bakery was scorched, and the rear storeroom had suffered water and smoke damage. Black streaks marred the brick. The smell of ash hung in the air like grief.
Ava sat on the curb outside, an emergency blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hands were shaking.
Ethan crouched beside her, silent.
They watched as firefighters coiled their hoses, faces grim.
"It's just stuff," she whispered. "Just wood. Glass. Plants. I know that."
Ethan touched her hand. "But it was your stuff. Your dream."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"It was where we got engaged," she said quietly. "Where we built everything from scratch. Where we planned our future."
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to her hair. "It's not over. You still have your hands. Your recipes. Your fire."
She let out a broken laugh. "Poor choice of words."
He gave her a small smile. "Too soon?"
Ava nodded, sniffling.
A firefighter approached them. "We've assessed the scene," he said gently. "You're lucky. If it had gotten to the main ovens, the whole building might've gone up."
"Do you know what caused it?" Ethan asked.
The man hesitated. "There are signs it wasn't accidental."
Ava blinked. "What do you mean?"
He looked between them. "We found traces of an accelerant near the greenhouse foundation. Could've been lighter fluid or something similar. We're calling in an investigator to confirm. But..." He lowered his voice. "This might have been intentional."
Ava's blood turned to ice.
Intentional?
Who would want to burn down Sweet Delights?
Later That Night
They didn't go home.
Ava couldn't face her apartment—couldn't handle the silence, the scent of smoke that seemed to cling to her skin. Instead, they stayed in a small bed-and-breakfast down the street.
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through photos of the damage. He paused on one: the greenhouse, nothing but blackened beams and shattered glass.
"This feels personal," Ava whispered, curled beside him.
He looked at her. "It might be."
"Do you think... someone did this on purpose? To hurt me?"
His jaw tightened. "Someone jealous. Angry. Maybe someone you've had words with?"
"No one hates me that much."
But even as she said it, her mind churned.
Was it the big bakery chain that had tried to buy her out last year?
The disgruntled supplier she stopped working with?
Or someone closer?
Ethan locked his phone. "I'm not going to let this destroy us."
"What if it already has?" she whispered.
He turned to her, fierce and gentle all at once. "Hey. Look at me."
She did.
"You're still here. The bakery's still standing. Your heart is still beating. That's all we need to start again."
She leaned into his arms, letting herself believe him—for just a moment.
The Investigation Begins
The next morning brought investigators, questions, and more tension.
A detective named Simone Reyes arrived with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor. She took Ava's statement, asked about recent conflicts, business enemies, and anything suspicious.
"Have you received any threats?" she asked.
"No," Ava said. "But... we did have someone lurking outside a few nights ago. We thought it was just a nosy customer."
Ethan nodded. "Dark hoodie. Baseball cap. Tall."
Simone jotted it down. "If you remember anything else, call me. In the meantime, tighten your security. Change your locks. Install cameras."
Ava felt her stomach twist. "Is it really that serious?"
Simone didn't smile. "Yes."
The Suspect
Three days later, the detective returned—with news.
A man had been caught on camera two blocks from Sweet Delights the night of the fire. Same hoodie. Same build. He'd purchased a container of lighter fluid at a gas station 20 minutes before the flames started.
His name was Trevor Daniels.
Ava froze.
Trevor had been a regular customer two years ago. He'd applied for a job, claimed to be a pastry chef from a big city. When she didn't hire him—after discovering his resume was fake—he'd become bitter.
Emailed her once, months later: "You'll regret pushing me out."
She had forgotten.
Until now.
"He was obsessed," she murmured. "He came in every day. Watched me. Tried to 'fix' my recipes."
"He's being held," Simone said. "We have enough to charge him with arson."
Ava stared at her hands. "Why would someone burn down a dream?"
Simone shrugged. "Jealousy is a dangerous thing."
After the Ashes
The community rallied around them.
Neighbors donated supplies. Customers left flowers and notes. Local news ran a story about Sweet Haven's survival.
But Ava struggled.
Her confidence had taken a hit. She questioned her safety, her future.
She kept waking at night, smelling phantom smoke.
One evening, she sat with Ethan on the steps of the bakery.
The stars were out, bright and silent.
"I'm scared it's never going to feel safe again," she said.
Ethan wrapped a blanket around her. "We'll build stronger walls. Brighter lights. Safer roots."
"I lost our greenhouse."
He kissed her temple. "Then we build a new one."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Do you still want to marry me?" she asked, voice small.
He didn't hesitate. "More than ever."
Rebirth
Weeks passed.
The damage was cleared.
A new greenhouse began to rise—this time with fire-resistant materials, better locks, and surveillance.
But the heart of Sweet Delights hadn't been destroyed.
It had simply been tested.
And love, true love, doesn't burn in flames.
It forges something stronger.
As Ava hung the "Open" sign on the front door once again, the smell of fresh bread drifted out to the street—just like before.
Ethan stood beside her, flour on his cheek, a quiet fierceness in his eyes.
They had been through fire.
And come out—together.