Leon stood at the bus stop, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone while waiting. His eyes flickered up just in time to see Alex crossing the road.

  "You're late," Leon said as Alex reached him.

  "Yeah, sorry," Alex replied, slightly out of breath.

  Leon eyed him suspiciously. "Where were you?"

  Alex hesitated for a moment before smirking. "Don’t you already know?"

  Leon sighed. Of course, he knew—Alex had gone to meet her. He had invited Leon to come along, but as always, Leon had refused. He wasn’t interested.

  Once on the bus, Alex took the window seat while Leon slid in beside him. He pulled out his phone again, checking the class schedule for the day.

  "You know, Leon… I still haven’t finished my project," Alex admitted, tapping his fingers against the window.

  Leon barely looked up. "So?"

  "You know what I’m asking."

  "Not happening."

  Before Alex could protest, Leon abruptly got up and moved four seats back. He knew exactly what would happen if he stayed—Alex would spend the entire ride begging him to do the project for him.

  Alex groaned dramatically, slumping against the window. "You’re so heartless, man."

  Leon just smirked, finally able to enjoy a peaceful ride.

  The bakery bustled with activity as customers waited for their orders to be packed. The scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries filled the air. Aylin worked swiftly alongside Tania, sealing boxes with precision and handing over parcels with a practiced ease.

  "Thank you for your patience!" she said with a polite smile as she passed the last parcel to a customer.

  Just as she exhaled in relief, her gaze drifted past the store window. A small figure sat on the ground a little distance away, his clothes ragged and smeared with dirt. His tiny frame looked fragile, as if the wind itself could sweep him away. Aylin hesitated for a moment but forced herself to look away. It wasn’t her place to interfere.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  However, the boy had already noticed her.

  A while later, a sudden noise at the counter pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see the same boy now standing inside the bakery, his small fingers tapping against the glass display, his black eyes wide with longing as he stared at the cakes.

  Aylin walked over and crouched beside him. "Do you want one?" she asked softly.

  The boy glanced up at her, hesitated, then gave a small nod.

  She reached into the case and pulled out a slice of cake, placing it gently into his hands. The moment the dessert touched his fingers, he clutched it tightly—like he was afraid it would disappear if he didn't hold on fast enough—and began eating hurriedly, stuffing large bites into his mouth.

  "Who's that?" a sharp voice cut through the moment.

  Aylin turned to see the cafeteria lady approaching, her expression stern. "And why is that kid eating our pastries? Does he even have money?" Her voice grew louder, drawing the attention of a few customers.

  Panic surged through Aylin. Without thinking, she grabbed a packet of bread from the counter, took the boy’s hand, and dashed out of the store.

  "I'll pay for it!" she called back over her shoulder.

  They stopped a little farther down the street, near a wooden bench shaded by a rustling tree. The boy climbed onto the chair while Aylin bent down, catching her breath. She noticed his eyes fixed on the bread in her hands.

  Without a word, she extended it toward him.

  He snatched it quickly but didn’t stop eating the cake in his other hand, switching between bites like he hadn’t eaten in days.

  "What’s your name, kiddo?" she asked gently.

  He paused just long enough to glare at her. "I’m twelve. I’m not a kid."

  Aylin blinked in surprise. At first glance, she had assumed he was no older than seven or eight. He was far too small for someone his age.

  She watched as he devoured the bread, not even pausing to take a breath. "Were you that hungry?" she murmured, already knowing the answer.

  The boy shot her another look, as if to say Isn’t it obvious?

  "Where are your parents?" she asked, keeping her voice light.

  "I don’t have any." His tone was indifferent, but his words carried the weight of something heavier than a child should bear.

  Aylin fell silent.

  "What?" the boy muttered, his mouth still half full. "Aren't you going to say ‘what a poor kid’ like everyone else?"

  Instead of pity, Aylin reached out and gently ruffled his messy hair.

  "Do I look like someone who would?" she asked with a small smile.

  The boy stiffened for a moment, unused to such a simple act of kindness. He looked up at her, confusion flickering in his dark eyes.

  Before he could respond, a familiar voice called out.

  "Aylin!"

  She turned to see James approaching, his face filled with concern. She exhaled, standing up and brushing her hands off.

  The boy watched as she walked away, still processing what had just happened.

  And for the first time in a long while, he felt something warm—something unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome.