Mag-log inETHAN'S POVWe had been working for hours, longer than we planned, but neither of us wanted to stop. The bakery was starting to look like something real. The wind had picked up outside, rattling the front windows every few minutes, but I figured it would pass as storms in this town always talked bigger than they hit.I was wrong though. The rain started soft at first, then harder. Wind rattled the front windows. I had just dipped the roller again when the lights flickered once and went out completely. The room turned pitch black. Only the glow from the street outside cut through the rain-streaked glass.Isabella let out a sharp breath somewhere near me."Ethan?""I'm right here izzy. You okay?” I asked.“Yeah,” Izzy said. Her voice came from somewhere near the ladder. “Just startled.”I pulled my phone out and turned on the flashlight. She did the same. The two small beams cut across the wet paint and the open cans on the floor. I went behind the counter and found a portable flashlight
ISABELLA'S POVI went back to the storefront alone three more times that week. I stood in the middle of the empty storefront, my footsteps echoing off the bare floor.I had come alone every time. No Ethan or anybody, just me and a notebook full of numbers I kept adding and subtracting until they made sense. I ran my hand along the dusty counter and pictured it clean. I pictured the glass case full of pastries, the little chalkboard menu and my name somewhere on the door.I sat down on the floor with my back against the wall and pulled out my notebook again. Savings from Portland, some money from the bake sale, market stall profits from the last few weeks. I added it all up for the tenth time that week, and it was close. Not comfortable, but close enough that I could make it work for an initial deposit and the first six months of rent if I was smart about it.I wanted this to be mine. All of it. Not something handed to me, not something I owed anyone for. That was I didn't ask. That
ISABELLA'S POV "You want fries with that thought, mija, or are you just going to stare at your phone all night?" My mother's voice pulled me out of the fifth listing I had scrolled past that hour. I looked up from the kitchen table, my coffee had gone cold beside me, and realized I had been sitting there for almost an hour without touching my food. "Sorry, Mama." I set the phone down. "I was just looking at something." "What kind of something makes you forget dinner?" I hesitated as it felt strange saying it out loud, like if I said it too soon it might disappear. "I was looking at rental spaces," I said finally. "Small ones. For a bakery.” “A bakery?” “Yes, I wanna open a small bakery." My mother's eyebrows went up but she did not say anything right away. She just kept stirring the pot on the stove, letting the idea sit in the room a little longer. The truth was I had been thinking about it for weeks now. The market stall was good. It made me happy every Saturday
ISABELLA'S POV"Five dollars for the lemon cakes," I said, and the woman in front of me handed over a crumpled bill without even blinking.That was the fourth batch gone before ten in the morning. I looked down at the empty trays on my little foldout table and felt something warm move through my chest. Pride. Real pride. Not the fake kind I used to wear like makeup back in Portland.I had only started this because the nights were too quiet and my hands needed something to do to get me extra money. So after the bake sale I thought about just baking a few things and selling them at the Saturday market. Make a little cash, keep my mind busy. That was the whole plan. I never expected people to line up before the tent was even set up."Izzy, you're out again?" Ethan's voice came from behind me, amused.I turned around and there he was, holding two coffees like he did every single Saturday now. He handed me one without asking if I wanted it. He already knew I did."Don't judge me," I said.
ISABELLA’S POVI went home that day thinking about what Ethan said. The idea of joining the bake sale kept turning in my mind. I sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea and stared at the wall. Could I really do this? Bake for strangers? Put my work out there for people to judge? I had only baked for family members, close friends and neighbors. Not an event where the whole town is going to be at. The thought made my stomach feel tight. But another part of me felt a small spark of excitement. Something I had not felt in a long time.Later that evening, I told my mother about it. We were washing dishes together. She listened quietly as I explained what Ethan suggested.“I do not know Mama,” I said. “It feels scary. I have only baked for family and neighbors before. Not for a whole market.”My mother dried her hands on a towel and looked at me with soft eyes. “Mija, doing this might be good for you. At least to find yourself again. To remember the things that make you happy. You have been
ISABELLA’S POVThree weeks had passed since my family left. The house now felt quiet again and I was glad for it. I needed the silence. The constant questions and noise had been too much. Especially from Aunt Marisol. I am glad she is out of my hair now so I could breathe a little easier. But the silence also brought back the heavy thoughts I tried to push away every day.One night I kept tossing and turning in bed as sleep would not come. My mind would not rest. The first person I thought about was Ethan. I wanted to call him. Just to hear his voice. But I quickly shoved the thought away. I could not start depending on him like that. I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was dark and still. I opened the cabinet to put the glass away and saw the flour, sugar, and other baking things my mother kept there.I stood there for a moment. Then I made up my mind. I could not sleep anyway. I might as well do something useful. I started pulling out bowls and measurin







