If you relax, it will enable me to do anything I-, you're mine

Chapter 10 1/2: A Moment to Breathe

Third pov
The late afternoon sun slanted through the bakery's windows, turning flour-dusted surfaces golden. The warmth of ovens and the scent of fresh bread wrapped around Davis like a rare kind of safety. Belle moved with quiet efficiency, her hands folding dough and sprinkling sugar with practiced care.

Davis leaned against the counter, pretending to watch her work, though his eyes kept stealing glances at the way light caught the strands of hair framing her face.

"Want to try?" Belle asked suddenly, holding out a small rolling pin. "You can make the first batch."

He hesitated, then laughed softly. "Me? Baking? I'll probably burn the place down."

She smirked. "That's why it's fun. Mistakes make the best memories."

For a moment, it was just that: a boy and a girl laughing in a kitchen, the world outside faded. He rolled out a wobbly line of dough, and Belle laughed—not mockingly, but warmly.

"You're better than you think," she said.

Davis felt his chest loosen. "Thanks... Belle."

They worked side by side in silence for a few minutes, the rhythm of the bakery soothing him. He almost believed, just for a second, that they could exist here—without whispers, without judgment. While Belle kneaded dough and Davis laughed at his own clumsy rolling, Davis's cards sat neatly tucked away in a small drawer.

But in a dimly lit room across town, the cards called to him differently.

Then came the knock.

Davis stiffened. Belle's smile faltered slightly.

(Davis pov)

Through the window, he could see a group of children lingering on the street. "Oh wow, look at that." I said. Their stares curious, some pointed, some whispering to each other. 

"Who is he?"

I could not help but hear the undertone in their voices before he saw their faces: questioning, wary, sharp with prejudice.

"Of course." I whispered, feeling annoyed with the eyes on him. 

I ended up remembering Mama Odie's words: The world won't always see you as you hope they will.

Belle noticed his tension. "You okay?"

I forced a casual shrug. "Yeah. Just... people."

She didn't pry, just nodded. Her hand brushed mine as she passed the flour. It was small, but it anchored him.

Then I realized something important: the outside world would always try to define them—our upbringings/class, my skin color, her status, our relationship—but here, now, none of that matters.

"Hey," Belle said softly, "want to take a walk later? Just... away from the street?"

Davis's lips lifted into a real smile, one that reached his eyes. "Yeah... yeah, I'd like that."

And in that moment, it felt like a promise—not of a perfect world, not of safety—but of a shared normal carved out between the chaos. Even under shadow, they could breathe...

*Park across the street*

He laid the deck on the table, fingers hovering.

Just a practice, he whispered.

The cards were not innocent paper here. They shimmered faintly under his fingertips, each one a promise and a warning.

Tonight, the temptation was strong. He wanted to test the limits—just one trick to see if the deck would bend to him the way it seemed to do sometimes. A trick that might make a spectator's luck swing in his favor, that might win something someone else was unaware of losing.

"I can control it," I murmured. But the deck hummed, like it was teasing him. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I pictured Belle's smile, the warmth of the bakery, the way she didn't judge me for the world outside.

Not tonight, he whispered. Not yet.

A shiver ran through him—the thrill of almost taking the shortcut, the almost-power that came from bending the odds. But he felt something else, too: a weight lifted, a small victory over the pull of temptation.

Outside, the city murmured. In another room, Belle laughed softly, unaware that her presence in his thoughts had anchored him.

Temptation waited. Always. But restraint, he realized, was its own kind of power.