Chapter 32 After The Fire

• The rain had stopped hours ago, but the air still smelled of it—wet stone, burnt sugar, and smoke from the ruined dessert. The kitchen was dim, only a single lamp spilling soft light over the counters that had seen too much tonight. Élise stood there, her apron hanging loose, her hands trembling as she wiped the edge of the counter one last time.
• Antoine leaned against the doorway, silent. His shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up, and there was a shadow in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The kind that comes after something breaks—not a plate, but trust.
• “You don’t have to clean,” he said quietly. “It’s over.”