The morning light poured through the tall glass windows of Bluebell Bakes, spilling across the pastel blue tiles and the floral Peranakan accents that glimmered like tiny mosaics. The sweet scent of butter and caramelized sugar hung thick in the air. Outside, the city moved briskly, but inside, time seemed to move more slowly.
Elin sat behind the counter, one ankle propped up carefully on a small stool, wrapped in a light bandage. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and a smudge of flour decorated her cheek like a badge of persistence.
Across from her, Axton was wiping down the display counter with the focus of a man negotiating an empire.
His sleeves were rolled up, his tie abandoned somewhere hours ago, and the crisp lines of his usual suit had given way to a casual shirt that somehow still looked expensive.
When the door chimed, signalling another customer, Elin started to move, only for Axton to step in, one hand lightly pressing her shoulder.
"Don't even think about it," he said, not looking up as he reached for the register.
"I can stand for two minutes," she argued, crossing her arms.
He looked at her then, his gaze steady, a teasing glint behind that firmness. "You said that yesterday too. Guess who couldn't walk after?"
Elin pouted, muttering, "That was one time."
"Mm. And I'm not risking a second." He turned back to the waiting customer, his tone shifting effortlessly into polite professionalism. "Good morning. One matcha croissant and an iced latte?"
The woman nodded, slightly flustered by the sight of the Axton Creighton — Singapore's most elusive CEO — standing behind a bakery counter in rolled-up sleeves.
"Coming right up," he said smoothly, punching in the order with precision.
Elin watched him from her stool, a smile tugging at her lips. There was something disarming about seeing him here, this man who usually commanded boardrooms and multi-billion contracts — handling bakery orders and wiping flour off his forearms like it was second nature.
When the oven timer went off, Axton turned automatically, already pulling on oven mitts. "Stay," he said firmly before she could speak.
Elin laughed. "I wasn't even moving!"
"Just making sure," he replied, opening the oven door. A warm wave of buttery air rolled out, filling the shop as he carefully slid the golden croissants onto the cooling rack.
She guided him gently. "A little more space between them, or they'll get soggy at the bottom."
"Yes, chef," he murmured, following her directions with surprising diligence.
When he was done, he arranged the pastries in the glass display, adjusting each one until Elin gave an approving nod. He turned to her then, dusting flour off his hands. "You should hire me. I'm efficient, reliable, and very handsome."
Elin rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "You'd scare all my customers away with your CEO energy."
"I'd like to think of it as customer magnetism," he countered, leaning casually on the counter.
"More like intimidation."
"Maybe. But you like it."
Her blush gave her away, and she quickly busied herself with sorting receipts.
He glanced at the time, then opened his laptop on the counter, typing quickly. The faint click of the keyboard blended with the quiet hum of the coffee machine. It was an oddly domestic sight — a man running a corporation between batches of pastries.
Elin raised a brow. "Are you seriously working here?"
"Of course," he said, not looking up. "You told me I can't abandon work, remember?"
"I didn't mean literally bring your office here!"
Axton smirked. "Compromise. I'm here with you, and I'm not neglecting work."
She sighed, but there was fondness in her voice when she said, "You're ridiculous."
He finally looked up, eyes softening. "Maybe. But you're more important."
Her breath hitched slightly, her fingers pausing on the pastry box she was folding. He said it so casually, yet it carried the kind of sincerity that made her heart ache.
"Axton," she murmured, her tone half-warning, half-touched. "You can't keep putting me above your job. People depend on you."
He leaned closer across the counter, his voice gentler now. "And you think I can't manage both?"
She hesitated, then smiled faintly. "You're stubborn."
"Always have been." He winked. "Ask my board."
The rest of the day passed in a comfortable rhythm. Axton taking orders, Elin offering quiet guidance, the two moving around each other with an ease that felt new but natural. Occasionally, when no one was looking, his hand would brush her shoulder, or she'd reach over to fix his collar. Small, tender gestures that said far more than words could.
By evening, as the sun melted into a golden haze outside, Axton glanced at her ankle and frowned. "You've been sitting too long. It's swelling again."
Elin sighed. "I'm fine. Really."
He crouched beside her before she could argue further, his fingers gentle as he adjusted the ice pack over her ankle. "You're not fine. You're pretending."
Her pulse fluttered. "You're bossy."
He looked up at her, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "You like that too."
She didn't deny it.
Outside, the last customers left, and the bakery grew quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the fridge and the muted rhythm of the city beyond the glass.
Axton leaned against the counter beside her, closing his laptop at last. "You know," he said, his voice low and warm, "I think I could get used to this."
Elin smiled, resting her chin on her palm. "What, working in a bakery?"
He looked at her, his eyes gentle, the corner of his mouth curving into that familiar, devastating smile. "No. Just being here. With you."
Her heart skipped. And for a moment, surrounded by the scent of fresh croissants and the quiet hum of comfort, she let herself believe that maybe this was what happiness looked like.
***
The late afternoon air was thick with the scent of rain and the faint hum of traffic. Elin pushed her grocery cart slowly down the aisles of NTUC, the cool air-conditioning brushing against her skin. Her ankle, finally free from the bandage, still ached a little if she moved too fast but walking without that constant twinge of pain felt like freedom.
She smiled faintly to herself as she compared two bags of flour, mentally calculating the ratios for her next recipe test. During those days she was stuck on "seat duty" in the bakery, she'd scribbled down ideas in a little pink notebook: matcha almond swirls, pandan brioche and kaya choux buns. They are all experiments waiting to happen.
Now that she could move again, her fingers itched to bake.
She reached for a carton of milk, balancing it on top of her growing pile of ingredients. Butter, eggs, sugar, even a bottle of vanilla she didn't need but couldn't resist.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Axton: Don't forget to rest that ankle. I'll swing by later.
She smiled softly at the message, her thumb hovering over the screen before typing back:
Elin: Promise. Just picking up a few things.
Axton: A few? You're probably buying the entire store.
She chuckled under her breath, tucking her phone away. He wasn't wrong.
Elin turned into the next aisle, eyes scanning for more ingredients, when she collided with something — or rather, someone.
"Oh! I'm so sorry—" she started, clutching her trolley handle.
"No apology needed," a smooth, familiar voice interrupted, laced with amusement. "Though I'm starting to think fate has a strange way of making us meet."
Her heart sank.
Sebastian Kairen.
He stood there like he owned the fluorescent-lit aisle — tall, immaculate, his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to look effortless, his smile easy and practiced. His tone was soft, but his eyes held that same sharp glint she'd seen before — the kind that made her instinctively step back.
"Sebastian," she said carefully, trying for polite but distant. "What are you doing here?"
He chuckled lightly. "What? A man can't buy groceries?" He lifted the pack of blueberries in his hand as proof. "Breakfast essentials."
She forced a small smile. "Right. Well, it was nice seeing you."
She started to wheel her trolley away, but he moved beside her with practiced smoothness, keeping pace.
"Are you baking?" he asked, glancing at her basket. "Looks like it."
"Yes," she said curtly. "Just testing out some new ideas."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice like they were sharing a secret. "You really do light up when you talk about baking, you know that? It's... refreshing."
Elin stiffened, focusing on the row of sugar in front of her. "I just like what I do."
"I can tell." He paused, studying her profile. "You know, you don't have to handle everything alone. I happen to know a few people who'd love to invest in small bakeries. I could—"
"No, thank you," she said quickly, her tone firmer than before. "I'm not looking for investors."
Sebastian's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.
"Independent. Admirable. Though I can't help but wonder why someone like you would resist a little help."
She tightened her grip on the trolley handle, her chest constricting. Every word he said was laced with charm, with insinuation, with a subtle assertion of control that made her skin crawl.
"I said no. Please respect that."
Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound smooth and teasing, and yet with an edge that hinted at his frustration. "Ah, feisty. I like that. But tell me... does Axton know you can be this firm when he isn't around?"
Elin froze. The mention of Axton sent a jolt of warmth and fear through her. Her stomach knotted as she steadied herself, her voice clipped. "Excuse me?"
He arched a brow. "Axton. Your boyfriend." His tone was almost conversational, casual, but it cut through her like a blade. "I didn't realize he'd tied you down so quickly."
Heat surged into her cheeks. She wished she could vanish into the polished floors beneath her. "I don't know what you're implying," she said quietly, though her pulse raced.
He leaned in just enough to lower the air between them, a predator's patience hidden behind a gentleman's poise. "I'm just saying, it's fascinating how someone as ordinary as you could capture someone like him."
Ordinary. The word hit her unexpectedly, igniting a mix of anger and shame. She straightened, planting both hands firmly on the trolley. "I think that's enough, Sebastian. Please leave me alone."
He paused, studying her with an intensity that made her step back instinctively. "Elin, you misunderstand me. I'm not here to trouble you. I'm... interested. Intrigued. I can't help noticing the way people like us... cross paths."
Her jaw tightened. Every instinct screamed at her to get away, to breathe, to remind herself that she had Axton, and he was the one who mattered. "I have to go," she said, turning quickly, pushing her trolley toward the checkout.
Sebastian followed at a calculated distance, his voice dropping to a low, smooth murmur. "I'll see you again, Elin. Maybe next time, you'll let me take you for coffee instead of rushing away."
She ignored him, her heartbeat hammering as she moved through the aisles, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down even after she turned the corner. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the parking lot as she exited. She inhaled sharply, drawing in the evening air like it could wash away the tension, the fear, the frustration bubbling in her chest.
Elin knew, deep down, this encounter would not be their last.
***
Axton was in his office, reviewing the latest reports on the lingering fallout from Vivian's leaks, when his phone buzzed. It was his assistant, Jason.
"Sir," he said, voice calm but serious. "You might want to see this." He forwarded him a short video clip taken at a supermarket. Elin walked carefully with her trolley, and just as she passed an aisle, she collided — deliberately or not, it wasn't clear — with a tall, familiar man in an expensive shirt.
Axton's chest tightened instantly. He recognized the man immediately. Sebastian Kairen. One of his business rivals. One of the few men he knew who could match him in influence and wealth. And right now, Sebastian was inching into Elin's space, leaning too close, smiling with that practiced charm.
Axton's green eyes darkened. "Set up a meeting. Now," he said, his voice low but sharp.
By evening, Sebastian arrived at a high-end private lounge Axton had arranged. The room was elegant, the dim lighting highlighting the sleek lines of furniture and the polished surface of the table between them. Sebastian slid in, calm, collected, his grin betraying nothing.
"Creighton," he said, nodding slightly, voice smooth as silk. "To what do I owe this... pleasure?"
"You know why I called."
Sebastian's smile curved slowly, teasing, almost lazy. "I can guess. Something about Elin, perhaps? My sudden appearance in town."
"Yes," Axton said. "I want to know why you've taken an interest in her."
Sebastian finally raised his eyes to meet Axton's. His dark gaze held a faint, amused glint. "Interest. That's a strong word. Let's call it... appreciation. I admire people who are unpredictable, who don't fit neatly into the boxes everyone else tries to put them in."
Axton's jaw tightened. He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table like he was ready to strike. "She is my girlfriend. You will not interfere."
Sebastian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're still a little naïve, Axton. There are rules in this city, yes, but there's no law that says admiration can't exist... even for someone already spoken for."
Axton's eyes narrowed. "Don't test me."
"Test you?" Sebastian said, raising a brow, leaning forward slightly. "No. I'm merely observing. Learning. Isn't that what you do, CEO to CEO? You watch, you analyse, you strategize."
Axton's fingers twitched slightly on the table, but his voice remained steady, low, and controlled. "This is not a game. Stay away from her, Sebastian, or there will be consequences you will not enjoy."
"Consequences. That word carries a lot of weight for you, doesn't it? And yet, here we are, both aware that desire doesn't always obey rules. Admiration doesn't wait for permission. Interest doesn't need approval. The question is, do you understand what's truly at stake?"
"I warned you. One step closer and you'll regret it."
Sebastian's smirk widened. "Ah, but that's the fun part, isn't it? Watching someone try to control something they can't truly hold. You care for her. That's obvious. So do I. But let me ask you this: how much do you really know about her? How much do you really see?"
Axton leaned forward, his voice low, sharp. "Enough. And I see enough of you to know your interest in her isn't innocent."
"Isn't innocent?" Sebastian echoed, tilting his head. "You make it sound so sinister. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't. It depends on the definition of 'innocent,' doesn't it? If I admire her brilliance, her warmth, her... potential, am I so wrong?"
Axton's eyes glinted, cold and unyielding. "Wrong enough that I won't let you get close."
Sebastian's smile faded for a fraction of a second, replaced by a sharper, calculating glint. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a near whisper. "You see, that's where you underestimate me. I don't just get close. I get what I want. And I have ways to... make sure it happens without anyone noticing until it's too late."
With that, he adjusted his cufflinks and then he left.