Bonus chapter Kaiden - Before The Town Wakes.

Dawn settles over Eldermoor as I head back towards my place, the sky still pale and undecided.

I want a cold shower and clothes that don’t smell like last night.

The town centre is quiet—most shops are dark, shutters down. Eldermoor wears early mornings well. Honest. Predictable.

The bakery doesn’t.

Light spills from the side entrance, warm and low. The smell hits first—fresh bread, yeast, something sweet underneath.

My feet slow without consulting me.

Outside the back door, rows of sourdough loaves sit cooling in the crisp air, steam lifting like breath.

Inside, Freya stands at the workbench in her bakery uniform, blonde hair tied high. She dusts flour across the surface, then kneads the dough in time with the soft hum of the radio perched above her.

She moves like this is muscle memory—steady, practised, calm. I linger longer than necessary, telling myself I’m just curious.

Her laugh cuts through the quiet, sudden and clear. For a moment, I forget why I stopped at all.

I step inside only when the rising sun catches the flour in her hair, turning it gold. “You’re up early,” I say, leaning against the doorframe like I’ve got nowhere else to be. She doesn’t look up. Just smiles.

“You get used to it. Or maybe I like the quiet.” I nod, though I don’t hear much past the way her smile settles in. “You’re alone?” I ask.

“Only on Mondays.” She steps closer to the threshold between us. “It gives Patrick an extra day off. I leave early for classes, so it works.”

“A full day with no breathing room.”

She shrugs, fingers worrying the hem of her shirt. “It’s fine.”

She dusts flour from her hands onto her trousers, then pauses, eyes flicking over me. “You smell like cheap whisky and pot roast.”

I lift a brow. “That obvious?”

“That explains why you’re awake,” she adds. “Fun night at the Chases’?”

“The highlight was the sunflower tableware.”

She laughs, light and genuine. “They only bring those out for company.” “Guess I should feel honoured.”

“You should.” She taps my chest once, playful. “Gemma refuses to let anyone eat pizza out of a box. Nathaniel nearly had a breakdown when she brought those plates out.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Classic.”

“It’s weirdly comforting,” she says. “Those little rules.” I hum. “Not a word I’d use. But I get it.”

She gestures towards a small table by the window. Instead of magazines, it’s stacked with culinary journals and printed recipes, margins crowded with handwritten notes.

“Coffee?” she asks. “You look like you need it.” I don’t argue. It’s strong. Proper. Clears the whisky from my head in one brutal sip.

“You win,” I say. “This beats anything we serve at The Old Mill.” “Told you.”

I finish the cup slower than necessary.

“Thanks for letting me linger,” I say. She smiles, already turning back to the dough.

“Anytime. But I do have to work.” “Of course.”

I step out into the morning, the smell of bread following me down the street. I glance back once.

Freya is already moving again—focused, steady, exactly where she belongs. I understand, a little more clearly, why everyone in this town gravitates towards her.

She’s real. And she doesn’t try to be anything else.

❤️ Maliyka ❤️