Chapter Ten

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Red Apple Bakery

Wednesday Afternoon

Time seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. The usual hustle and bustle of the bakery did little to uplift the somber mood surrounding Snow. This day was always the hardest to deal with. No matter how hard she smiled, it never stopped the aching of the still-healing wound.

The chiming of the bell caught Snow's attention. Florian stood with two small bouquets of daisies and white roses. He sent a sympathetic smile her way, and she sourly returned it. Without so much as another word, Snow stripped herself of her apron, hung it up on the rack behind the kitchen door, and left the bakery with her husband. None of the staff questioned her actions; none of the patrons watched as she walked out the door. No one liked seeing Snow without a smile on her face.

Florian and Snow walked in silence as they made their way down the street. Their familiarity with the routine caused them to settle into a quiet sullenness. Each year on this day, they never knew what to say to each other. Especially Florian. He knew no matter how much he wanted to comfort Snow, he felt like nothing he said would be enough.

Entering the cemetery, Snow finally took a hold of Florian's hand. He looked at her and saw a thin sheet of tears coating her brown irises. Again, Florian felt helpless as he continued to guide her through the winding paths towards the tiny memorial that caused so much grief.

"Hi there, little one," Florian whispered as he wiped away the grass and dirt from the small porcelain headstone. It had lost its original shiny white coating and had a hint of dust on it, but it was otherwise still in good shape. He removed the older flowers, replacing them with the new ones. Snow joined him on the ground, leaning on her knees, placing her own bouquet of flowers next to his. Her eyes flickered to the picture at the top of the tombstone. It was a headshot of a baby girl, about three months old. Her hair was brown like her father's, eyes dark brown like both her parents. Her face so innocent and round and full of baby fat. Her cheeks were puffed out and covered in the smashed strawberries Florian was feeding her. The little girl sat in Snow's lap, who was mid-laugh in the picture. They were in the kitchen of their home.

A home that sometimes felt a little empty.

Snow sighed at the fond memory. "She was such an adorable baby."

Florian nodded in agreement. "She sure was," he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling

her in close. "Our little Winter."

"Do you remember when we first brought her home? How nervous we were?"

"Yeah, we were a wreck!" Florian chuckled. "If it weren't for my parents, I don't know what would have happened."

Snow smiled softly, resting her head on his shoulder. It was quiet for a moment, then Snow spoke, "I miss her."

"I know. I miss her too."

"I miss her so much Florian."

"I know Snow," Florian kissed the top of her head. "I know."

"You were such a great father," she whispered to him. "You loved her so much"

Florian blushed at the compliment. "Aw, geez Snow. I did the best I could. We both did."

Snow turned to look at him. "Would you be willing to try again? Have children, I mean."

Taken aback by her question, Florian went into momentary thought. One beat. Two. "I would...I would love to try again," he looked into Snow's eyes. "Would you?"

"I...I think so. I loved being a mother and seeing you be a father was...so special. I feel like I'm robbing us both of something that made us so happy..." Snow stopped, starting to get choked up.

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