Chapter 49
Ella
It’s been one week since I got back.
South Africa still lives in my bones.
Some mornings I wake up expecting to hear the low, distant sound of something massive moving through tall grass, or to smell dust and sun instead of sugar and coffee.
For two weeks, it felt like I was walking through someone else’s dream—wide skies, endless land, animals that looked like they belonged to another century.
Lions that made the air feel heavier just by existing.
Elephants so close I could feel their breath.
I’d waited for that place my entire life.
Not just to see it. To be part of it. To work. To help. To matter in a way that felt… real.
It changed me. I know that in the quiet, certain way you know something has shifted and will never quite shift back.
Coming home was harder than I expected.
Not because I don’t love my life here—but because once you see how big the world is, it’s impossible to unsee it.
Still, Cup & Cake was waiting for me.
The bakery is quiet in the early morning before opening. Sunlight slants through the windows, turning the dust in the air to gold.
I’m wiping down the counter when I hear the knock.
Not loud.
Not impatient.
Just… there.
I look up.
And for a second, my brain refuses to cooperate, because Nathan is standing on the other side of the glass.
Dark jacket. Wind-tousled hair.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t wave. Just stands there.
My heart forgets how to work.
I walk to the door on legs that feel like they don’t belong to me and flip the lock.
The click sounds. He steps inside.
For a moment, we just study each other. He looks different. Not lighter exactly. Not fixed. But… steadier. Like something inside him finally stopped bracing for impact.
“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t know if you’d come,” I answer, just as quietly.
His eyes flick to the counter, then back to me. “I wanted to thank you,” he says. “For the letter. For… everything. For not giving up on me when I wasn’t capable of being anything other than broken.”
I swallow. “How’s Ivy?”
A softness crosses his face that still makes my chest ache.
“She’s good. Better every day.” A pause. “Maddison’s good too…she can’t thank you enough. We’re… figuring it out. The new version of what we are.”
He hesitates, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.
“I’m not here to reopen old wounds,” he says after a moment. “And I’m not here to pretend I didn’t make mistakes. I did. A lot of them.”
My heart starts to pound.
“I’m here because I finally understand something,” he continues. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I was avoiding the part of myself that wanted to believe I could still have something good.”
He looks at me then. Really looks at me.
“I don’t want to do that anymore.”
The silence between us feels fragile. Important. I can’t break it.
“I don’t know how to do this perfectly,” he says. “But I do know that I want to try. With you. Not as a man running from his past. Not as someone hiding behind walls. Just… as me.”
My throat tightens.
“And if you tell me you’re done, I’ll respect that.”
I stare at him for a long second. Then I say, “Definitely not done.”
His mouth curves into a look of relief.
I don’t think about it. I step into him.
He wraps his arms around me slowly and rests his forehead against mine. “Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I answer.
He kisses me.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Completely.
And for the first time, I don’t wonder if he’ll leave.