Author’s Note:
“Quick correction!
😂 A reader pointed out that I accidentally wrote Lio instead of Leo throughout the previous chapters.
The correct name is Leo.
Since English isn’t my native language, I use AI to help translate my chapters, and apparently this little mistake managed to sneak through the editing process and survive for several chapters.
😂
I’ll be correcting it as soon as I can.
Thanks to the reader who pointed it out, and thanks to everyone who helps me catch these mistakes!
❤️”
The day began normally.
Then—without any clear reason, without any particular event that could be pointed to—something changed.
Leo woke up with a strange heaviness he had not felt in weeks.
He stared at the ceiling of his small room above the bakery, and for once, none of his usual sarcastic remarks came to mind that morning.
Only silence.
At school, Nino noticed the difference first.
“Buddy, you’re quiet today,” he said during lunch break.
“Like, weirdly quiet.”
“I’m always quiet,” Leo said, trying to smile, though the smile did not quite reach his eyes.
“No, you’re usually…
loud-quiet.
Today you’re quiet-quiet.”
Leo couldn’t find a funny response to that.
And that alone was strange enough for Nino to notice once again.
Marinette noticed it too.
On the way back to the bakery, they walked in silence for longer than usual.
“Are you okay?” she finally asked.
“I’m fine,” Leo said, the words coming out softer and less convincing than he intended.
Marinette looked at him with genuine concern, but she didn’t press him.
She simply walked a little closer to him without saying anything else.
At the bakery, Leo sat in his usual corner, his notebook open in front of him, but his pen remained still. New chapters come out on g.com first.
He was thinking about something he had not allowed himself to think about much since arriving here.
Faces.
Voices.
Little details he had never realized were important until they were gone—a particular laugh, a certain way someone used to call his name, a table he used to sit around every evening without ever thinking that it might be the last time.
It was a simple thought.
But today, it felt heavier than ever.
We never realize the value of what we have until having it becomes nothing more than a memory.
Sabine, who was kneading dough at the nearby table, glanced at him several times without saying anything.
She noticed the open notebook with no writing on it.
She noticed the unusual silence.
She noticed that he hadn’t joked with Tom even once since entering the bakery, and that alone was enough to worry her.
She didn’t ask him anything.
Instead—half an hour later—she placed a small plate of freshly baked croissants in front of him, more than any ordinary customer would need.
Without saying a word, she gave his shoulder a gentle pat and returned to her work.
Leo looked at the plate.
Then at Sabine, who hadn’t waited for thanks or an explanation.
She simply went back to kneading the dough as though nothing had happened.
Something inside his chest loosened slightly.
An hour later, Marinette sat beside him, her notebook in her hands, though she didn’t open it.
“I’m not going to ask you what happened,” she said quietly.
“But I’m here.
If you want to talk.
Or if you don’t, I’ll just sit here.”
Leo looked at her.
He wasn’t ready to give the full answer.
And perhaps he wouldn’t be for a long time.
But a small part of him decided to give her something real, even if it wasn’t everything.
“I miss people,” he finally said, his voice quieter than anything he had said before.
“My family.
I probably won’t ever see them again.
He paused, his voice almost trembling for a moment before regaining its steadiness.
“I haven’t allowed myself to think about it much.
Today…
the thought just became stronger than I was.”
Marinette looked at him in silence, making no attempt to fill the emptiness with words that wouldn’t help.
She simply placed her hand over his for a second, without saying anything, then gently pulled it away.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said, with a simple sincerity that did not try to fix something that couldn’t be fixed.
“It’s okay,” Leo said, and for the first time that day, a small, genuine smile appeared on his face.
“It’s just…
a gray day.
It happens sometimes.
Even to geniuses.”
That evening, after closing the bakery, Leo found himself standing beside Tom near the oven, while Tom arranged his tools without any obvious need to do so—a man who understood that sometimes, simply being there mattered more than any words.
“Tough day?” Tom finally asked in his simple English.
“Something like that,” Leo replied.
Tom nodded in understanding, needing no further explanation.
“Tomorrow better,” he said simply, placing his large hand on Leo’s shoulder for a second.
It wasn’t a real promise about anything.
Tom had no control over tomorrow.
But the way he said it was enough.
Later, in his room, Leo took out his watch and looked at the faint golden glow that continued to pulse with its usual steady rhythm.
“Rough day,” he said quietly to it.
“But not the worst day.
Far from it, actually.”
He paused, remembering the silent plate of croissants, Marinette’s hand resting on his for that brief moment, and Tom’s simple words.
“Maybe,” he added with a small smile slowly returning to his face, “I’ll never forget my family.
But this strange place takes care of me more than I expected.
And maybe that’s enough, at least for now.”
He turned off the light, and the golden glow continued to pulse beside him in the darkness.
End of Chapter Twenty-Two