Rhea's life is a picture of quiet bliss-working in her cozy bakery, surrounded by the sweet smells of fresh pastries, and living a life full of sunlight and simple pleasures. But there's one person who disturbs her peace every day: Keane, the enigma...
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The days seemed to blur together for Rhea, each one passing in a haze of unease and uncertainty. The bakery had always been her sanctuary, a place where she found comfort in the rhythm of mixing, kneading, and baking. But now, every time the door chimed, every time Keane walked in, it felt like the walls were closing in around her.
She tried to tell herself it was just her imagination, that she was overthinking things. After all, Keane had always been polite, even kind. But something about him—something in the way he watched her—kept her on edge.
It wasn't just his visits anymore. It was the little things. The way his eyes seemed to follow her no matter where she went in the bakery. The way he always knew when she was about to close up for the night, always appearing at the last moment, his presence a dark, silent force. She'd caught him a few times, standing outside the bakery long after hours, just standing there in the shadows, watching.
But she hadn't said anything. Not to anyone.
She wasn't sure she even knew how to explain the discomfort she felt. Keane hadn't done anything overtly threatening, and yet...
The unease lingered like a shadow that refused to leave.
This morning, however, felt different. It was the first time in a long while that she woke up feeling like she could breathe. Maybe it was because the weather had shifted—the crisp autumn air had come in with a promise of change. Or maybe it was just because she had convinced herself that she had been imagining everything.
That was, until she opened the bakery door.
Rhea's heart skipped a beat when she saw the familiar black car parked outside. Keane's car. It was sitting there, far too close to the door, as though he'd parked it there intentionally.
For a moment, she hesitated. She wasn't sure what she expected. Was he waiting for her to open up? Was he just here early, like usual?
She let out a deep breath, steeling herself. Stop overthinking.
As she walked toward the counter to begin her morning prep, the door chimed.
And there he was.
Keane.
Rhea froze for a second, feeling the weight of his gaze fall upon her like a heavy cloak. He hadn't moved a step from the threshold, standing there in the doorway, tall and imposing, his dark eyes fixed on her with that same intensity that made her pulse race.
"Morning, Rhea," he said, his voice low and calm, the usual smooth velvet undertone that never failed to send a shiver down her spine.
"Good morning, Keane," she replied, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered slightly. She couldn't help it. Every time he came in, it felt like the air shifted, like he brought something with him that made everything feel just a little too heavy.
