Chapter 10 - Sweet Bread and Sunset
Years passed like the gentle turning of pages in a well-loved book.
The bakery continued to smell of warm butter, cinnamon, and toasted sugar. The yellow entrance light still glowed every evening, welcoming weary travelers, neighbors, and children who needed a safe harbor from the storms of life.
Valentina and I lived in the house down the street—a home filled with sunlight, laughter, vibrant paintings, and the soft rustle of paper as new masterpieces came to life. We never saw Samuel again, and his absence was nothing more than a faint shadow long since washed away by the bright Mexican sun.
Every evening, after the ovens were turned off and the bakery doors were locked for the night, Valentina and I would sit together on the front porch.
The scent of blooming jasmine drifted on the evening breeze. The distant hum of Guadalajara traffic faded into a peaceful quiet. Valentina would rest her sketchbook on her lap, her fingers steady and strong, holding a brand-new blue pencil.
"What are you drawing tonight, my love?" I asked, sipping my clay mug of hot chocolate.
May you like
Valentina looked out at the golden sunset painting the rooftops of Santa Tere in shades of orange, pink, and deep violet. She smiled, her eyes shining with the quiet triumph of a survivor, an artist, and a daughter who had conquered the world.
"A new beginning, Auntie," she whispered, turning to a completely blank page. "Just a new beginning."
