A/N: Yay! So if you're wondering when to check Wattpad for my updates (if Wattpad simply doesn't like you and doesn't do the notification thing hehe *^*), I usually update on Sunday evenings (GMT+8) 9, 10ish. If I don't update one week, it probably means I'll update the next week :> Enjoy the chapter!

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Tottering over, I soon realized that Miss Rachel's boxes were filled with books. From the way she struggled to transfer them from the side of the road to the boot of her car and had dropped one of the boxes in the process of doing so, I figured that the boxes must be nearly—if not completely—full.

Leaning down to pick a stray one up and dusting it down the side of my jeans, I noticed that they were cookbooks. More specifically, baking cookbooks.

"Hi Miss Rachel," I greeted, tentative as I went up to her and retrieved another book along the way. The very same copy. "Do you, um, need any help with all that? Oh, and you dropped these by the way." I held up the two copies for her to see.

Unfortunately, Miss Rachel didn't seem too happy about me touching her books. Well, I could see where she was coming from, I guess. There must be a reason why she purchased so many copies of the same book and was taking them all somewhere else. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd packed her things for the event already. After all, it was stretched across two weeks and with it being Wednesday, she would be left with only a day and a half to pack. Concerned, I was about to ask her when she took the books right out of my arms and carefully placed them back into the box where they belonged, sparing me a glance that was impossible to read.

I shrunk back. "N-no? Um. I guess not huh. Well, you must be very busy—bringing all these books somewhere." I stayed for a little longer, just in case Miss Rachel dropped another box of her precious books again. Somewhere along the way, it began to appear as though I was speaking to myself.

Which is really the case most of the time, isn't it, Chip? Said me to me. The latter nodded in agreement.

I watched as my neighbour lifted another box, wobbled, and caused more books to slide out of it and fall (spine-side down) on the ground. Every box was filled to the brim with these heavy books! And upon closer inspection—completely unintentional, really—I spotted her name printed in nice cursive font at the bottom of the cover.

Oh. She published a cookbook.

Again, I helped her retrieved the copies that she'd dropped and handed them back to her. She said nothing, taking the books and packing them back into the boxes. I was beginning to think that her manager rather irresponsible for making her transport everything on her own. Well, unless she was self-published, of course. Then she wouldn't have a manager...

I took a moment to appreciate the very well-taken photo that was on the cover of her cookbook. A picture of Miss Rachel very meticulously piping pink rosettes on a beautiful, three-tiered wedding cake.

At once, I was reminded of the pineberries and the new collection that she'd launched, so awfully similar to Shin's painstaking ideas. It was hard to breathe all of a sudden, and I couldn't help but doubt the decision I'd made to help Miss Rachel. If Shin had, instead, shared this with a patisserie more established, more well-known than Baked Love, then they could have got it patented and even had the chance to promote it on levels different than ours. Ah Shin ;-; I'm so sorry.

"Oh," my neighbour stumbled again and thankfully, I'd caught the other end of the box and prevented it from tilting all the way to the right. Together, we transferred it to the boot of her car.

Only then did her eyes rest on me properly.

She looked me up and down, then, everywhere else except insignificant pebble me. It felt like being picked up and given a quick inspection before being tossed aside with a 'meh, nothing special'. Happens in every other movie when the main character goes through the phase of the emo and sits by the river staring at pebbles. I am the pebble ;u;

"Where's Xander?" Miss Rachel asked after looking around, shifting the boxes in her boot to make space for what I assumed to be the rest of her luggage. I paused, not quite sure if I'd heard her correctly.

"Xan?" I blinked. "Where he is—like, where Xander...is? Um." She stared, and I got the chills under her gaze. It was unwavering. "He's out visiting someone today. He said it was an acquaintance, but I think he's, you know, just...maybe just shy about it. I mean, Blake's his best friend but he's never admitted it, so." Wwwaaait, what was I talking about again? Why did I somehow arrive at Blake? Eep. "And um. So...he's going to be back late. Which...is also why I'm in charge of making dinner. Today." I gestured to the bag of groceries in my arm to make my point.

Speaking of which, I wondered if Giselle was waiting for me at home already. She probably returned while I was out shopping, I figured, just about to turn sideways to give the windows of my house a glance when Miss Rachel waved a hand in front of my face and my attention turned to her instead.

"I appreciate the effort to make yourself look kind and all but if you're not actually being useful then I suggest you just..." She appeared rather frustrated, her eyes betraying some sort of fleeting emotion that I again could not read. "Never mind. See you at the event."

Deflated, I backed away and nodded timidly, knowing that it would be moments before she dropped another box again at the rate she was going. That's dumb fuck for not accepting any help! The tiny devil inside my head that sounded strangely like my husband laughed, evil and scornful before I shushed it and started back to my pebble home.

But just before I could take a single step away from the scene and leave Miss Rachel alone to box-dropping, she again, called out to me. I'd blinked and turned around very slowly, unable to guess what it was that she wanted this time.

"Were you always wearing that?" She pointed at my face, eyes narrow for some reason. "Glasses. I don't think I noticed them from before."

Then before Chip leaves, she, out of nowhere, asks if he's always been wearing glasses.

Glasses? I felt my face. Oh, right. I was packing all afternoon and didn't want to get dust in my eyes, so I'd had glasses on the whole time. I completely forgot to change out of them when I went shopping for Xander and Giselle's clothes (and ingredients for dinner of course). A-also because I was too lazy to put them on. Hehe.

"Um! Well. I wear contacts most of the time, but yes. I've always had—if that was what you were referring to—poor eyesight. Vision. It's just not twenty-twenty and um...I have trouble reading words or recognizing people more than six feet away," I laughed awkwardly, picking up my bag of groceries along with the shopping bag of clothes.

"You're not really answering my question. I meant if you wore glasses," she frowned strangely. "Especially when you were...I don't know. Younger."

All at once, I found her curiosity rather bizarre and sought ways to either change the topic or make a ninja-quiet exit out of the conversation. Nothing of value came to mind. "Yes...? I mean. Yes, I did wear glasses when I was younger. They look a little different from the pair I have now though. I mean, I look different in general—not just my glasses. Uh-huh." Again, I felt the corners of my lips stiffen and I was perhaps the most unnatural strawberry to ever exist.

"Okay, but how old were you?" She pried and I was, by this point, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I-I don't know. Just young. I...I really can't remember. Maybe six? Seven? I never really had good eyes from the start."

For Miss Rachel to be interested in me, let alone my past, was simply unfathomable (I learnt that word from Giselle, hehe). Had a little bird let slip a chirp about Miss Rachel asking me questions about my personal life a couple of days ago, I wouldn't have believed it. Still, I couldn't see how she could use all this information against me anyway, since, well, I wasn't telling her secret recipes or stuff like that. It's not like I had to dig her eyes out for what she had done—doing that would just make me as weak as her.

"Hm," there was an awkward pause between my reply and her next sentence, or...just, the semblance of a response. Not a sentence. "Right."

I waited a while more, just in case she decided to say something out of the blue again and I would have to stop in my tracks, turn, and interrupt my escape route for the third time.

"Might have seen you somewhere before. Vaguely."

"You mean, before we were neighbours?" I blinked, surprised that we were actually having a conversation.

She shrugged in return. "Only God knows." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Xander]

Spending the afternoon with Trudy was exactly as I had anticipated it to be: terrifyingly explosive and endlessly void of a solution. Granted, I should have taken at least one backup pill to keep my emotions in check or risk losing it from the wounds that one look at fuckface would open and bleed, again. The memories were not something I was fond of recalling, which accounted for my reluctance to confront both Trudy and my father about any form of compensation or deal. I simply wanted them out. Exit. Go. Bye.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Still, I'd somehow managed to keep the storm inside and reflect a pond with water still as fuck on my face just so that she wouldn't be granted the satisfaction of eliciting any form of emotion from me. She offered no solution and no stop to whatever strings she was pulling and denied any answer to my questions (yes, they were accusive but as usual, zero fucks given), overall testing my patience—which you all know is worlds apart from my husband's.

I sighed, fishing out the keys and unlocking the front gate while doing my best to calm the heaviness in my mind. Chip would be worried, seeing this look on my face. He and Giselle were masters at reading me and that was something I would never deny. Calm your shit, Xander. Stop thinking. Breathe. Fucking breathe.

Yet, it was something else that finally snapped me out of my thoughts—the most delicious scent wafting from the open window facing our front yard. I was at the doorstep within seconds and pulling it open, peering down the hallway before walking into the kitchen only to see my husband making Giselle's and my brand-new favourite dish.

It was a sight that only I had the privilege of seeing and that itself was able to make my day.

"Chicken tikka masala?" I came up from behind, surprising him with a hug and watching as he continued to stir the contents of the saucepan calmly. Somewhere along the way, Chip had already gotten used to my tactics. "Just how do you make everything smell so heavenly?"

"Of course, I do," my husband turned around with the softest smile but words that suggested a mood for play. "I'm your angel."

No doubts, I died. "Are you trying to destroy me? Bubble of destruction?"

"Yes, that is I," he laughed, shooing me away with a sideway bump of his cute butt. "Go wash up and call Giselle downstairs. Oh, and go see the stuff I got for both of you! It's on the coffee table."

"Yes Angel," I obliged, pouring myself a glass of water and downing it before slipping out of the kitchen. Then, I recalled something and popped my head back in. "So...did you get my size right?"

I couldn't see his face but the back of his neck and the tips of his ears darkened to a blush. "W-well! You can...see for yourself." He didn't turn my way, refusing to reward me with a glimpse of the strawberry treat. Haha.

No way was I going to ruin everything by telling him about what happened today with Trudy, let alone that I even went and confronted her by myself. I could imagine the smile on his face being wiped off at once.

*

[Chip]

"Why does Xandie get new undies?" Giselle was digging through the shopping bags on the coffee table after dinner when she came across the set of boxer briefs that I got for my husband, which he proceeded to promptly snatch up. His sister stared after his back, seemingly dissatisfied. "I want new undies too."

"Xandie's undies had a hole in them," I said to her in a lowered voice, as though sharing a secret that must be kept between us both. She turned to me with an incredulous gaze.

"A hole?"

"Yes!"

"Was it a big one or a small one?" She asked next, and I wasn't so sure how to answer her questions anymore. I glanced over my shoulder to check if my husband was out of earshot.

Then, having ensured that the coast was clear, I sat down cross-legged beside her and searched the bags for the new dress I got her. "W-well, it was—"

"What?" All of a sudden, Xander's voice came right up to my ear and I jumped away in...in bewilderment, whipping my head around to see him inches away. "What are we talking about?"

"You're not talking about anything," said Giselle before shoving her brother's face out of the picture. She turned back to me. "So? So? Was it a big hole or a sma—"

I quickly held up her dress. "Giselle! Look at this beautiful dress I got you! Weren't you eyeing something like this just last week when we walked by the boutiques on Park lane? And you've been painting flowers recently haven't you?"

I peeked out behind the dress. It was a white and layered, adorned with crimson cloth petals that formed roses on the hem of the dress. Giselle hadn't had any new clothes for quite some time now, and I just thought it would make her happy if I surprised her with one after so long.

Thankfully, my plan worked for real. Xander's sister was distracted by the pretty dress and stared at it for some time before taking it into her arms and continuing to stare at it. "It's red!"

I nodded, catching a glimpse of my husband looking through the rest of the shopping bags and pulling out the set of undies that I got for myself as part of the sale. At once, I executed the most football-worthy lunge that I'd ever have the motivation of doing and made a grab for them as though I was the star player of some football team. A pebble can dream ;u;

"It's red!" Giselle repeated, turning to us just in time to see me freeze and steady myself, retracting my arm at lightning speed while Xander hid the box behind his back and out of my reach.

"Y-yes it is! Do you like it? I hope you do," saved Chip from self-embarrassment. Good save, Chip. "It's for you to wear when we're going to town on Friday. You remember that we'll be travelling for a week or two, right? Summer vacation starts this weekend."

She nodded twice, fingers running over the roses on the hem of her new dress. "I remember. And yeah, I like it. It's red. Thanks Chocolate Chip," Giselle said before darting out of the living room and hurrying up the stairs, taking the dress with her and forgetting all about dessert.

"So," my husband laughed, sliding into the space behind me and planting a surprise kiss on the back of my neck. "Looks like you're all ready."

"Mhm," I nodded in response, assuming at once that it was the invitational event we were talking about. "It's a little scary and all, what with everyone being professional pastry chefs and recognized critics. But I figured, well, Mr. Yamazaki's right...it's the joy of baking that we are going to share—not compete against."

Turning around, I hoped for a private standing ovation from Xander. The one person whose praise held the weight of the world that was my own.

"Woah," he seemed mildly surprised, as though the raising of the topic was sudden and unexpected. "I mean, it was never a competition for you. You could win everything hands down even if you didn't know it was one," he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his lap. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about that."

I huffed, disappointed by the absence of a standing ovation. "Then what were you talking about?"

"These," Xander held up the box of undies that I got for myself among the others that I'd purchased for him. "Is this part of your evil plan to test my self-control and get me to do whatever it is that you want me to do?"

I snatched it out of his arms and hid the set under my shirt. "N-no one said you were allowed to look at them. And of course not! Well, unless I can somehow make you promise to mow the lawn every weekend."

My husband's most hated household chore was not washing the dishes or doing the laundry—it was mowing the lawn. Apparently, unlike his sister, he didn't like the smell of freshly-cut grass and it prevented him from taking care of the lawn every weekend. As a result, Giselle naturally took up the role of house gardener.

"And take Berry for walks every time you go out for a run. That's just so much more convenient! No double trips," I laid out, fairly sure that this wasn't the first time we'd been through this.

"Berry's too slow."

My jaw dropped. "No, you're just too fast! Don't blame Berry!"

Our husky lifted her head from the floor, in the middle of dozing off on the couch.

"Oh. Speaking of the lawn, I met Miss Rachel in front of hers just today. This afternoon," I wriggled around to face Xander in his lap. "She was having some trouble with boxes and stuff. They looked really heavy and—"

"—so you went to give her a hand," finished my husband with a sigh, shaking his head as he did so. "Angel. That woman has...has huge issues with her I-don't-know-what-kind-of complex she has. She literally doesn't have a brain."

I wagged a finger in his face. "Xan. That's not very nice. Anyway, she wasn't as unreasonable as she usually was today. She just asked me weird questions about my glasses and that was...kinda it actually. Nothing else happened."

"Oh—but she published a cookbook, apparently," I added, flopping onto Xander's uncomfortably-hard chest. "It looked really cool. I think she's going to launch it at the event this weekend...I wonder if Mr. Dempsey's magazine is still going to cover the entire thing, now that they fired the critic in charge of it."

I felt a hand caressing the back of my head.

"Expanding her cult of poisonous cakes? Sounds like a plan she'd come up with." Xander said beside my ear, probably realizing that I was a little disheartened. "Meanwhile, the only plan my husband comes up with is how to get me new underwear and getting the right size."

I turned to him with a pout, poking his abs.

"Which he did," Xander shrugged, smirking before closing the distance between our lips.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I was ready to turn the bakery's sign at six-thirty a.m sharp when I noticed the strangest line just outside the door, by the display window. About a dozen teenaged girls—some dressed in their school uniform which meant that they were from private schools and there was no private school in the vicinity as far as I knew—stood behind one another, heads lowered and thumbs scrolling across the screen of their phones.

Was everyone in the mood for bread all of a sudden? I could hardly believe my eyes. There was not a single morning we'd open with a ready line ever since, well, ever since the very first opening some twenty years ago.

"U-um. Hi! Good morning. You can come in now."

The moment they heard the click of the sign and caught a glimpse of the word 'open', their heads raised in unison and the first girl standing in line quickly rushed in, nearly slamming the door in my face.

"Uwa—"

"Ohmygosh I'm so sorry I didn't see you but I heard about the white strawberry tart that you guys have?" The first girl spoke awfully fast and already, my head was spinning. "Like, the beautiful one Lizzie featured in her video?"

Although I had no idea who or what she was referring to in the latter question, I did know what she was talking about in the first.

"Yes we do!" I quickly showed her to the counter. "How many would you like?"

"Five please," she said, already fishing out a studded wallet and handing me a credit card. "Take away. Sorry, I just have to get to school fast and my chauffer's already waiting outside."

Stunned, I somehow managed a feeble 'o-okay', completely unsure as to how I should be reacting to 'take away' since it was really the only option. There was no 'eat in' without tables and chairs in the bakery. In a mere second after opening, we'd sold out on the new tarts. The urge to drop Shin a text was incredible and if not for the ten others behind her, I'd have flopped onto the ground and rolled like a joyful pebble. Wait, did pebbles roll?

"Two 'First Love's please. The small ones."

I froze. "U-um, oh no. I'm sorry, we just sold out! The customer in front of you..."

"You're kidding—she bought all of them?" The girl next in line opened her mouth so wide, you could have fit an entire slice of cake into it. She and her friend looked thoroughly disappointed. "That's so selfish! Ugh."

I hadn't told them that the day's batch was literally only five because, one, white strawberries came in small batches, and two, there was no way I could foresee a customer coming right in and picking all of them up when we'd even have extras on bad days. Sometimes, they didn't even sell at all.

"Well! If you don't mind, the next batch will come in at about...lunchtime?" I made up on the spot, knowing that there were enough ingredients in the storage to make another for the day. "One o'clock. Unless you'd like to get the bigger tart!" I gestured to the display counter, where the twelve-inch tart remained. They stared at it.

"Ohmygod. It. Looks. Gorgeous."

"Should we get that?"

"Girl, I can't finish the whole thing."

"We could share it with everyone else?" The two girls whispered among themselves and the other customers behind seemed to be getting a little impatient. "Em was the one who watched Lizzie's vid and texted me about it."

Someone behind cleared their throat and the girls jumped, quickly moving to the side and fishing out their phones to presumably send their friends a text. "Sorry, um, we're having a little discussion. Don't mind us, uh. Just serve everyone else first."

Upon hearing this, the customer behind them lit up and ordered the twelve-inch tart in a heartbeat. The two girls dropped their jaws and stared. I could almost hear their internal screams and 'oh my gosh's. Naturally, I felt really bad for them.

"Wait. I—um. Please hold on for a second," I flew back into the kitchen to grab the bigger box for the twelve-inch tart and accidentally bumped into Shea, who thankfully wasn't carrying anything dangerous. "Oh! Shea! I'm sorry. Oh no there are so many people outside..."

"What?" My sister looked at me incredulously. "Child, it's six-thirty in the morning."

"I know! But...but...just go see for yourself. But wait! I need you to check on the ingredients first. See if we have enough for another batch of white strawberry tarts. The First Loves. For some reason, everyone's been..."

*

"Why does every customer come in asking about the new tart?" Hansel, my delivery-boy brother who was filling in for cashier duty, could not zip his mouth shut when we finally closed for the day, leaving a couple of customers outside pressing their noses up the display window and peering through every now and then. The rest of the baking staff were slumping across chairs and leaning against counters—turned into real pebbles.

"Beats me."

"I heard sumthin' about this Instagram thing and this video from some...I dunno her name but it sounds like laugh lizzie or sumthin' like that," piped Penny, wiping sweat off her brow. "Looks like someone gave you some fame, honey."

"Uh-uh," Shea was shaking her head. "They were asking where the tables and chairs were. Like, like it's a café or something. We are not a café or some...classy pastry shop. We're just a bakery."

"But I did hear them talking about a video," I chipped (??? Pebbles can make puns after all!) in, adding to what Penny had said. "And they really did seem to be excited about the tart. Some of them weren't even from around here, and—oh oh! There was a really rich girl who had a chauffeur."

"Nnnnnnnoohh," Hansel made this strange sound that was a cross between a low roar and the desperate shriek of a pony in disbelief. "Whhhhaaat?"

We were about to question Hansel's questionable ability to produce the weirdest of sounds when the few of us in the kitchen heard the front door swing open and someone enter the bakery. Glancing at Shea who was closest to the door, she took the cue to pop her head into the bakery.

Her reaction was odd; straightening up at once before dusting her apron and leaving the kitchen to enter the bakery.

"We're closed for today. What do you want?"

By all means, it was not the way my sister would speak to any customer, no matter who they were. As soon as I sensed that something was off, I moved towards the window looking into the bakery and peered in on the other side.