Chapter 1: (Bittersweet Frosting)

 ELENA ‧𓍢ִ໋☕ ׂ 𓈒⋆ ۪

The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet vanilla frosting is basically the universe telling me, "You're doing great, sweetie," and honestly, who can argue with that? Seriously, if I ever doubted my life choices, the smell of fresh pastries would immediately bring me back to my damn freaking senses.

I took a moment to look at the displays—the cakes, cupcakes, the coffee station, and pastries all lined up like they're in a beauty pageant. The cupcakes are frosted very well, like little pastel clouds, and I swear, the vanilla cakes look so glossy, I didn't just bake these, I crafted them. The coffee aura just flows around the whole bakery and the book corner has been stocked with new collections and everything seems to be perfect.

The music in the background is some chill playlist I found on an ordinary day. It's the kind of music that makes you want to sip your coffee and look at life while pretending you're not running on three hours of sleep and a third cup of coffee. The vibes are nice—relaxing, almost like the bakery is a little bubble where the world doesn't exist... until Leah calls my name.

Leah is in her early twenties, just a little younger than me, She's one of my employees and she's already a pro at cake design. She's got this warm, sweet energy about her that makes everyone feel at home. and she's always the first to offer a hand when things get busy.

"Elena! We're almost out of sprinkles! I repeat, almost out of sprinkles!"

I look up to see her holding the sprinkles like she's about to perform surgery. I raised an eyebrow.

"You know, if sprinkles were a currency, I'd be a millionaire by now."

Leah just stares at me and gives me a serious look. "Not funny, Elena. We need sprinkles."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming," I say, already walking toward the storage cupboard. I grab the sprinkles— and placed them on the counter and went back to my desk.

Few minutes has passed and I'm glancing at the online orders for the week, just scrolling through the usual stuff. Cupcakes, cookies, pies—standard fare. But then, I stop. The top seller? vintage cakes. Huh.

Vintage cakes? I mean, they're cute and pretty, and I knew it was a really smart idea to sell them for this week. I let out a small giggle and scrolled down to the expense corner of the screen—this is where the fun begins. I click, hoping for some good news. Nope. My jaw literally drops. The numbers staring back at me look like its telling me something.

"Holy—" I stop myself before I can say anything that would get me banned from my own bakery. I'm pretty sure I've just spent enough on ingredients this whole month to fund a short vacation to somewhere warm.

I quickly close the tab, pretending I didn't just see that. "I don't need to know," I whisper to myself, like I'm trying to convince the universe to not bankrupt me.

I'm mentally preparing myself for the financial chaos that's staring back at me, and that's when Leah walks in with a tray of croissants. She stops dead in her tracks, looking at me like I'm about to announce a new flavor: "Crisis Cakes."

"Okay, what's the damage this time? Did you accidentally order an entire cow's worth of butter again?" She asked, leaning over the counter.

I chuckled and swiped over to some posts showing her my bakestagram page. "Look at this. It's like, the it thing right now. Who knew vintage cakes were the new black?"

Leah leans over, peering at my screen with a mock serious expression. "No way. those? You mean the ones that look like they belong at a Barbie-themed party?"

I roll my eyes, slightly smiling. "They're classic, okay? And people love them. It's not my fault the world has finally understood that vintage cakes are the most cutest thing you can ever get."

Leah laughs and flips her hair. "Okay, fine. But seriously, my cousin was begging me to get one of those for her birthday. Like, begging."

"You know," I say, watching her leaning against the counter, "you're younger than me, but you act like a grandma who's never had a single cute thing in her life."

Leah clearly not expecting the comment. She narrows her eyes, giving me a skeptical look. "Excuse me? I'm not that bad."

"Right," I tease. "Like no pink cupcakes or sparkles. Your cousin's got better taste than you, and she's, what, five?"

Leah sticks her tongue out. "I knew you were going to say that. But hey, if it's working, maybe we should focus more on those cakes this week as well."

"Absolutely," I say, nodding. "That's a great idea."

Leah grins mischievously. "And maybe... I could get a raise for helping with the vintage cake empire miss Elena?"

I laugh. "I thought you finally agreed that the cakes are cute but you agreed for this, huh? Sure sure i'll see about that."

But before Leah could get a word out, the familiar jingle sound of the doorbell rings through the shop. I glance up, raising an eyebrow.

Leah lets out a sigh, the sound of customers coming in. The doorbell jingles again, and suddenly, the bakery is filled with a line of people.

"Seriously?" I mutter under my breath, I flashed a bright smile, ready to welcome the new customers. "𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝐸𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓆𝓊𝑒!" I say, my voice warm and friendly. "What can I get for you today?"

They glanced at the menu before starting to order. "One latte, extra shot," I nod, "Got it. And for you?" I ask the next customer.

After a whole hour of selling and serving, I was wiping down the counter, flour dusting my apron like I'm preparing for a baking contest. The usual hum of the bakery is still going strong, my employees working on their tasks and the soft clinks of the register and the low hum of the music making me feel in the zone. I glance at the clock. A few more hours before closing, and I'm good.

"phew" I finally got a chance to sit down for a second. I pull out my phone and, with a sigh, checked the notifications that had flooded on my screen.

There it is. A new email from that company I applied to, it was a good decent company. 

Owning this bakery is everything I've wanted, but it's not enough to live the life I dreamed of. Sure, it keeps me financially slightly stable, but if I ever want that little house with the garden, or to finally take that vacation to bali, I need something more. I need a steady second job—one that'll help me reach my goals. Not just scraping by, but actually living the life I want. A little extra cash means freedom to travel, to breathe and to enjoy what you have worked hard for.

I tap on my phone, ready to check what it said, and opened the email.

Thank you for your interest in the position, but we regret to inform you...

I let out a soft, disappointed laugh. I kinda knew it. I was upset and frustrated, but then suddenly, the words echo in my head. My mom's voice, sharp and disappointed:

"You'll never be successful on your own, Elena. You need us. You're making a big mistake refusing to listen to me and your father. You'll never make it without our help."

I swallow hard, shaking my head as I push the thought away. It feels like a weight on my chest, as though those words are still hanging over me. It's hard not to feel like I'm failing sometimes, like maybe my mom was right. Maybe I'm not meant to do this on my own.

As I sat there deep on thoughts as I can still see her standing there in the kitchen that day, arms crossed, looking at me like I was a disappointment. But it wasn't just her words that hurt. It was the look on my dad's face, the way he stood silently behind her, saying nothing. He didn't even bother to speak up this time. It was like he agreed with her—like he thought I couldn't do it either.

"Elena listen to us" my dad had finally muttered, almost as if it were an afterthought. His voice was flat,"You don't have the experience. You need the family business."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell them how passionate I was about the bakery, how this was my dream, not theirs. But their eyes, both of them—so disapproving —it made me feel small.

"Don't you see? You're throwing away everything we've built, the hotel, the business, everything!!," my mom had continued, shaking her head slowly, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You're nothing without us."

My heart had ached in that moment. It wasn't just the hurtful words—it was the fact that they were so sure I couldn't succeed without them and that no matter how hard I worked, how much I poured into this, it wouldn't be enough.

I'm not a failure.

"Snap out of it Elena", I told to myself as I took a deep breath and was startled by the sudden sound of Leah's voice, sharp and clear.

"Hey, Elena?" she's standing there with her arms crossed, giving me that look. The one that says she knows when I'm lost in my thoughts too deep. "You good? You've been staring at that phone for, like, ten minutes."

I blink a few times, trying to shake off the memory, I forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just—just a little headache, that's all."

Leah raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "A headache, huh? More like thinking-too-much syndrome if you ask me."

I chuckle weakly, brushing it off. "Nothing major. Just... a lot going on."

She leaned against the counter, giving me a knowing look. "Come on, I know life as a business owner is tough, but you can talk to me, Elena. What's really going on?"

I sighed, holding up my phone. "You know the job I applied for, I got two rejection emails today. It's like they looked at my degree and were like, 'Nah, not for us.'"

Leah threw her hands up. "What? They rejected you? with your fancy degree in arts and design? Girl, if I had that degree, I'd be designing for Paris."

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "If only it was that easy."

Leah laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Okay, first off, those companies must be blind. You're practically a design wizard. A few emails won't stop you.", she said as she looked at me and gave me a supporting smile.

I grinned. "Okay, okay, maybe you're right. But it still stings and hurts."

She patted me on the shoulder. "Look, one rejection email can't define you Boss Lady. You've got more talent in your pinky than half of them do in their whole office", and she leaned in, looking way too serious for my liking. "Okay, seriously though, how about you ask your friends for recommendations? You know, get some tips from people who know people."

"What do you mean by that? like ask my friends for a job". I asked her with a slight confused look since it wasn't something which was easy.

She grinned. "Exactly Like, your connections!, see if they've got any advice or know anyone hiring. Worst case, you get a few good tips, best case, you land your dream job."

I chuckled, pushing her gently. "I'll take that advise. But yeah, I guess reaching out wouldn't hurt. Thanks for the pep talk, Leah."

After a few hours the sun had already started to set, casting a soft glow through the bakery windows as the evening settled in. It was quieter now, the rush of the day long behind me. There were still a few minutes left before I could officially call it a day, Leah and few of the other employees had finished their duty and left the bakery. so I took my time finishing up—wiping down the counters, cleaning the display cases, and folding my apron with a bit more care than usual. I wasn't in a rush. Not yet.

The doorbell jingled again at this hour, and I looked up in confusion because I had already flipped the door sign to CLOSED, but it was Sabrina that showed up like she owned the place. Of course, she did—at least in her mind.

Sabrina Rosa Bellini—my best friend since high school and probably the most dramatic, high-maintenance, and the most stunning person I know. She walks into a room like she owns the place, and honestly who would even blame her for that. She's Literally a Fashion model (obviously), and if you ask her, the fashion world is blessed to have her. Confidence level? Unmatched. Humility? Never met her.

She's tall, has hazel eyes and got these perfect dark curls that always look fresh out of a magazine cover, and I swear, I've never seen her have a bad hair day. Meanwhile, I walk outside for five minutes, and the wind personally attacks me. she's my ride-or-die. The one who hypes me up when I feel like a disaster, keeps me in check when I need it, and somehow always knows exactly what to say—whether it's to make me feel better or just to roast me for fun.

"Sab!" I called out, rushing over to give her a big hug.

She grinned and pulled away, scanning the bakery. "Closing already? I thought you'd be giving away free cupcakes or something," she teased.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're late, as usual."

Sabrina shrugged dramatically. "I missed you," she said, acting like it had been years instead of just a month.

I couldn't help but laugh. "You literally saw me last month."

"Exactly a whole month ago, that's literally ancient history! " she corrected, settling into a chair with her usual sass.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop smiling. "Come on, let me make you some coffee."

We sat down, coffee cups in hand and she leans in, eyes twinkling like she's about to spill the juiciest tea. "Okay, remember that pick me Jessica from high school? The one who thought she was queen of the world just because she wore those classy heels and jeans?" She waits for me to nod, "Well, I saw her last week. And girl, you won't believe what happened."

I raise an eyebrow, already sensing the chaos. "What did she do now?"

Sabrina bursts out laughing. "You know how she was always all, 'I'm too good for you guys', 'You guys totally don't understand how having these fancy bags are'? Well, guess who's working at a fast-food drive-thru now?"

I blink, processing. "No way."

"Oh yeah," Sabrina says, barely able to contain her laughter. "I pull up to get my fries, and there she is, in the little headset, looking like she's about to cry while handing me my bag. I could barely keep a straight face. Like Honey, you went from being the 'queen bee' to a 'fry queen'? Oh, Sweetie, life comes at you fast."

I'm cracking up. "Wait, so she went from strutting around school to—"

"Serving up extra ketchup packets and fries" Sabrina finishes, wiping non existing tears from her eyes. "And I'm just sitting there, trying to be polite, but inside, I'm like, 'This is justice for how low you treated people in high school.'"

I'm laughing so hard I almost choke on my drink. "Did you say anything to her?"

"Oh, I did," she says, with a wicked twinkle in her eye. "I was all sweet and innocent, and said, 'Thanks, Jessica. You're doing a great job, sweetie!'"

I laughed out loudly. "No way!"

She nods, her smirk growing. "Yep. Honestly, I had to hold in the laugh. She looked like she wanted to crawl into the fryer and just—poof—disappear."

After a few minutes of talking and laughing like maniacs she finally finished gossiping and she asked "So, how's everything going with you, babe, anything interesting?"

I sighed, leaning back. "Well, You know how badly I wanted another Job and I did my best and applied at few places but... I got rejected."

Sabrina nearly choked on her coffee. "What?! Seriously? You're a design genius, Elena! What kind of place turns down a talented women like you?"

I nodded, "They said I didn't have enough experience for the position."

She gave me a look. "Experience? Sweetie that's Bullshit, if they want experience, they should hire a robot. You're human. And you've got style. They're the ones missing out."

I managed a small smile before I changed the topic. "And what about you, huh? How's the fabulous life of Sabrina going? Still modelling?"

She leaned back, rolling her eyes with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, you know, same old, same old. Just finished up signing contract with a modelling agency. it's super glamorous, sitting in front of a camera pretending I'm a runway queen when really, I'm just trying not to trip over my own feet." She took a sip of coffee. "Also, I've been doing some 'super important' brand ambassador stuff. You know, posting pictures of me holding perfume bottles ,the usual."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're a walking advertisement huh?"

She winked. "Hey, if it pays the bills, I'll take it. But enough about me—what are you going to do about this job thing?"

I sighed, swirling my coffee around. "I don't know. I guess I'll just keep looking for other opportunities or probably just ask around people."

Her eyes suddenly lit up like a lightbulb went off above her head. "That's my girl!" she said, as if she'd just cracked the code to the universe. She pulled her phone out of her bag like it was a magic wand and began typing furiously, looking like she was on a mission.

I frowned. "What are you doing Sab?"

Her fingers were flying across the screen, and she didn't even look up. "You said I'm a walking advertisement, right?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah and what about it?"

"Well," she said, a grin spreading across her face like she'd just discovered the cure for boredom, "I'm gonna do exactly what I do best."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

She slid her phone back into her bag and leaned back in her chair, totally smug. "I've got connections, babe. You'll be fine."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not sending my resume to anyone, are you?"

Sabrina rolled her eyes so dramatically, "Puh-lease, I don't need to send it to anyone. I'm just making a few calls." She gave me a wink. "If you've got the right people behind you, everything falls into place, Tesoro."

"Okay, now I'm scared," I said, half-laughing, half-worried. "What did you just do?"

She leaned forward, all serious for a second. "I'm not guaranteeing anything, but—" she shrugged and then leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk, "—you'll see soon enough."

I couldn't help but laugh and feel scared at the same time. "You're ridiculous."

She waved her hand and laughed. "I prefer to think of myself as a genius. But ridiculous works too." 

 __________

Quick disclaimer—I have nothing but respect for all jobs and the amazing people who do them! No offense to anyone working in a restaurant; it's an honest and respectable profession. But Jessica character? was the definition of a high school nightmare. A full-time brat, part-time menace, and a certified pick-me. So please do not take my writing in a wrong way😌