Mia’s words hung in the bakery like a blade suspended in midair.
“He can never know the truth.”
Daniel stood behind the counter, unable to move, unable to blink, unable to understand how the woman who had once been his whole future could be standing ten feet away from him with a child who had his eyes. Ethan ran toward her, clutching the photograph in one hand and his crumpled bills in the other.
“Mama, look!” he said, breathless with excitement. “The man said the cake is free!”
Mia didn’t look at the cake.
She looked only at Daniel. Daniel stepped out from behind the counter.
“Mia,” he whispered.
Ethan glanced between them. “You know each other?”
Mia’s lips parted, but no sound came.
Daniel’s voice hardened, not with anger yet, but with the terrible effort of holding himself together.
