Chapter 2: The boy called " Mom"

The scent of melting butter mingled with sweet vanilla and a hint of soft pollen — a symphony only this small corner bakery could compose in the quiet of dawn. In that place, time seemed to pause. Each moment drifted slowly, soaked in nostalgia, as if the entire world had stopped breathing just to hear the gentle sigh of pastries rising in the oven.

The wall clock chimed six deep notes — a lullaby whispered to the passing time. Morning sunlight filtered through old lace curtains, casting a golden honey hue across the little kitchen. Camila, dressed in an apron dusted with flour and butter, stood in front of the oven, gloved hands cradling a tray of croissants just beginning to brown.

She pulled out a sheet of butter cookies with practiced grace. The warm light brushed her serene face with a soft glow. But in her eyes lingered a sorrow too deep for words — a fracture untouched by time. Deep within her heart, something pulsed — faint yet enduring — like the final note of a lullaby that refused to fade.

Ting... ting...

The chime above the door rang gently. The first customer of the day.

Camila turned, a gentle smile already on her lips — one she wore each morning without fail.

But it wasn’t an adult.

It was... a little boy.

No more than four or five. Pale skin, soft chestnut curls, eyes the color of amber honey — and something about him that struck a chord in her soul.

Over four years had passed since that fateful day. Time could dull the sharpest edges of memory, but not the ache of a mother who never held her child. No matter how many children visited her bakery, Camila always glimpsed, just for a moment, the shadow of the baby she lost.

If her child had stayed... he’d be the same age as this boy.

The little one stood calmly, unafraid. His bright eyes looked straight at Camila — and then, with a voice soft as silk, he asked:

— “Mom?”

Camila froze. Her breath caught.

The boy, with innocent clarity, continued:

— “You look just like my mom.”

She knelt down, fighting to keep her voice steady.

— “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

He smiled shyly and pointed at the bakery sign behind her:

— “My name’s Ethan… like the name of your bakery!”

Her heart cracked open.

Ethan — the name she’d whispered through sleepless nights, feeling that tiny soul flutter in her womb. The name she never told a soul. The name she gave her bakery — her silent vow to keep him alive in some way.

She looked at the boy as if seeing a dream walk out of memory. As if her soul had just come face to face with something holy.

— “Ethan…”

— “Yes?”

— “You said… I look like your mom?”

— “Yes, ma’am. Just like her.”

Camila trembled. She wanted to ask more — but the words caught in her throat.

— “Do you have teddy bear cookies?” he asked suddenly. “My dad usually buys them for me…”

She stopped breathing.

Teddy bear cookies.

She had only made them once — the night before giving birth. She never made them again. No one had ever seen them. No one had tasted them.

— “No... sweetie, I don’t sell those here.”

— “But I’m really hungry…”

— “Then I’ll get you something else, okay?”

— “Okay!”

Camila turned back into the kitchen, her heart flickering with a fragile, trembling light. The pain remained — but beneath it, something alive stirred, something pure and impossibly tender.

Maybe... fate hadn’t turned its back after all.

Maybe… this boy hadn’t just come here because he was hungry.

The oven chimed again. A new batch was ready. Outside, the little boy sat quietly on the tall stool by the window — like a tiny kitten watching the world.

Suddenly, he tilted his head. A soft beep sounded from his smart watch. He glanced at the screen, then hopped down with a surprisingly poised air.

— “Miss Camila,” he said, voice suddenly composed, “Could you pack those cookies for me, please? My driver’s here to pick me up.”

— “So soon?”

— “Yes, ma’am. But I’ll come back. Next time.”

Camila nodded. She gently placed a few butter cookies into a pastel box lined with soft paper, tying it with a ribbon — a silent promise to bake that teddy bear cookie… someday.

Outside, a sleek black car waited. The tinted window slid down. The driver, dressed in black, gave a slight nod.

The boy hugged the box to his chest, turned, and bowed with the elegance of a storybook prince.

Camila stood in the doorway, flour still on her hands. She watched the car pull away, as if watching something precious return... only to vanish again.

The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting golden light across her face — soft and melancholic, like a farewell unspoken.

The wind chime at the awning whispered softly… like a promise not yet fulfilled.