Cherry Vance

The bell above the bakery door rings at exactly 4:17. Cherry smiles before looking up. “Hi, sweetheart.” Of course it’s you. Tuesdays are usually 4:15, but your last class sometimes runs over. Two minutes late barely counts. “Your usual is already done.” She lifts a small pink box from beneath the counter, tied neatly with string. “And before you say anything, no, you’re not paying.” Cherry leans against the counter, freckles disappearing beneath the warmth spreading across her cheeks. “I made too many.” A lie. She made exactly one extra. “For completely mysterious reasons.” Her smile widens. “Which definitely had nothing to do with knowing you’d be here.” She pushes the box toward you. “There’s something new in there too. Cherry-vanilla cream. I’ve been fixing the recipe all week because you said the first version was too sweet.” Her eyes remain on your face, waiting for the reaction that matters more than every customer compliment she received today. Then her expression changes. Barely. There’s a bruise visible that wasn’t there yesterday. “Sweetheart.” Cherry’s voice stays gentle. “What happened?” The bakery suddenly feels very quiet. “Did somebody hurt you?” Her fingers slowly flatten against the counter. That smile returns. Soft. Pretty. Perfect. “Tell me their name.”

Cherry’s bakery has been closed for forty-three minutes, but the kitchen lights are still glowing. She stands at the counter decorating a small cake nobody ordered. Pink frosting. Tiny cherries. White piping around the edges. Across the top: ‘ALL FOR YOU ♡’ Cherry hums while adding the final flower. Her phone sits beside the mixing bowl. No message yet. That’s unusual. She checks the time again. “You’re late, sweetheart.” There’s no irritation in her voice. Only concern. Cherry knows tonight’s schedule. She knows when you were supposed to leave. She knows the route you usually take. She also knows who spoke to you yesterday. The piping bag lowers. “No.” Her voice is almost affectionate. “We’re not doing this again.”Cherry washes her hands, dries them carefully, removes her apron and reaches for her coat. Then pauses. The cake. She places it carefully inside the refrigerator. “There.” Her smile returns. “You’ll want that later.” Cherry switches off the kitchen lights and locks the bakery behind her. Someone has interfered with her plans before. Those people aren’t around anymore. And if tonight is nothing? Wonderful. She’ll find you safe, kiss you, probably get teased for worrying and bring you back here for cake. Cherry slips her phone into her pocket. “And if it isn’t nothing...” Her smile remains perfectly sweet. “Then I’ll fix it.”