Evangeline's pov :
"Hey you! Wake up… get up from the doorway. I'm opening a bakery here, not a shelter for the homeless!"
My voice was sharp, echoing through the alley in the early dawn. I didn't have much patience back then.
My body was exhausted from lack of sleep, especially my back and my mind, which every morning baked a list of tasks before it baked bread. It wasn't ready to deal with that human obstacle blocking my only entrance.
I lightly nudged the tip of his mud-stained leather boot with my foot, watching his tall body shift restlessly on the cold stone. He was almost like a bear in hibernation in that deep sleep of his.
A low groan escaped him. A few seconds passed before he slowly lifted his head.
I stepped back. I noticed he didn't look like the homeless people I was used to seeing in the city streets. His features were new, sharp at the angles yet oddly delicate, not fitting his current state at all.
And his eyes… they were tired beyond description. For a moment I thought a fallen angel had collapsed at my doorstep because of how beautiful he was.
He stood up slowly, straightening his tall frame, which made me look small in front of him. Well, he was a man, so that was natural. He began brushing the dust off his brown coat with a childlike awkwardness, almost like a puppy, apologizing in a hoarse voice.
"I'm sorry… I really am. It seems exhaustion overtook me before I could find somewhere to go."
I didn't reply. I simply slid the key into the wooden lock and pushed the door open, letting it release its usual creak.
I stepped inside and breathed in the smell of the dough I had left to ferment the night before, now filling the entire bakery.
He followed me in but stopped at the threshold, waiting for my permission to come inside.
I looked at him through the dim light and glanced his way as I untied my apron and wrapped it around my waist.
"I thought you were a homeless man. No one sleeps on people's doorsteps at this hour unless they have nowhere else to go."
He smiled, and the sight filled my vision. I couldn't tell whether that warmth came from the rising sun or from his smile. It was warm, bright, truly as if it had been stolen from the midday sun and placed into this cold dawn.
"I just arrived here and couldn't find anywhere open at such a late hour. My feet were killing me, so I told myself the smell of this bakery would be the nicest thing to wake up to."
I placed my hands on my hips, trying to ignore that irritatingly perfect smile.
"The smell of bread isn't for sleeping, sir. It's for eating. I'm Evangeline Laurent, and I don't accept customers who sleep at my door."
"And I'm Daniel… Daniel Rivers," he replied calmly, extending his hand while that smile kept growing.
I ignored his outstretched hand and pointed to the nearby bench. Minutes passed before I placed a warm loaf, fresh from the side oven, on the table in front of him.
The bread's golden crust was still making a faint crackling sound from the heat, and I loved that crisp sound.
Daniel began searching through the pockets of his coat, then moved to his leather bag. The search dragged on, and his expression slowly changed from a smile to confusion, and from confusion to embarrassment, leaving a faint blush on his cheeks. He looked at me with eyes like a lost puppy and said
"I swear I put my wallet here… it seems I…"
I cut him off, a sarcastic smile forcing its way onto my face.
"Congratulations… you're officially homeless now!"
He shook his head, laughing a ringing laugh that filled the empty bakery.
"I think the people in this area have a special way of welcoming strangers."
I pushed the loaf toward him.
"Or you could say you're lucky you collapsed in front of Laurent Bakery. Welcome to our neighborhood, Daniel Rivers. Consider it hospitality… but don't repeat your little nap at the door. Next time I might splash you with cold water."
I handed him the hot loaf and pushed it toward his hand, then turned toward the small stove in the corner of the bakery.
I pulled the kettle that had been boiling and poured a warm cup of tea, steam rising from it and spreading the fragrant scent of sage.
I placed it in front of him firmly beside the loaf, deliberately making the tea tremble inside the cup. It was my way of telling him that my generosity had limits.
I pulled a wooden chair across from him and sat down. And of course, I didn't sit like a tired baker. I crossed one leg over the other with confidence, leaned back, and folded my arms over my chest. Then I began to examine him carefully, giving him a sharp look from beneath my lashes.
I noticed his confusion. His hand, which had been about to break the bread, stopped. He swallowed with difficulty, and the sight was so amusing that for a moment I thought he had suddenly forgotten how a bite was supposed to pass through his throat.
He looked at me as if he had just discovered that the beauty standing behind the dough also had claws.
"So, Mr. Rivers," I began my little interrogation my secret talent.
"What brings a man wearing such an expensive coat… despite how dirty it is now… to sleep on the doorstep of a bakery in an empty border village?"
"Fate…" he started to say, but my voice cut him off before he could finish his philosophy. I mean..why all that drama? I just wanted a simple answer.
"Fate doesn't sleep on doorsteps, Daniel. Are you running from the law? Or are you just a stranger who lost his way?"
He finally smiled, but it was an unsteady smile this time, filled with admiration he tried to hide behind the cup of tea he sipped from.
"I'm not running from anything. I'm a writer. I came looking for a job opportunity… or perhaps a new beginning to inspire my ideas."
"A new beginning in a place that's about to explode?"
He nodded slowly, then began gathering the crumbs of bread he had dropped from the table.
He stood up, pulling his coat around himself. That was when I realized Daniel had been preparing to leave before my gaze forced him to confess all his secrets.
"Maybe this is the perfect time for beginnings, isn't it? When everything collapses, all that remains are the real things… like this loaf of bread, and this cup of tea."
He walked toward the door, stopped, and turned to me. In that light, his eyes seemed deeper than before.
"Eva…"
Mrs. Julie interrupted him, holding her cat in her arms.
"Oh, it seems I'm not the first today, as usual. Good morning to you both, young ones."
He greeted her, then turned back to me.
"I'll come back tomorrow. Not to sleep on the doorstep, but to pay for this loaf… and for my pride that fell under that look of yours."
He left, and I remained where I was, my leg still crossed over the other, his cup of tea sending its last threads of steam into the air.
Until Mrs. Julie asked me who he was.
"He's a crazy guy ," I told her as I stood up to wash the cup.
"And now let me prepare your order, madam."