SOMETHING SWEET , SOMETHING GONE (Lisa's Story) - Chapter 5 : Flour, Fire, and Freedom

The first morning I opened the bakery without Daniel felt like waking up from a long, bitter coma.

I didn’t cry.
I didn’t hesitate.
I just unlocked the door, flipped the Open sign, tied my apron, and got to work.

The silence was different. It wasn’t empty—it was peaceful. No shouting. No lies. Just me, the hum of the fridge, and the smell of rising dough.

Njeri stood by the counter that morning, sipping her coffee with a knowing smile.
“You’re glowing,” she said.
I laughed softly, brushing flour off my cheek.
“I’m healing.”


---

Rebuilding wasn’t easy.

Some clients had heard rumors—whispers about the accountant scandal, the violent nights, the betrayal that burned everything to the ground. Daniel tried to spin his own version of the truth.
But I didn’t respond.
I baked.

When people came for gossip, I gave them warm cinnamon rolls.
When they came with pity, I offered passion fruit cupcakes and a smile.

My hands found therapy in buttercream swirls and sponge layers. My rage melted into ganache, my sorrow whipped into Chantilly cream. The kitchen saved me—again.

I changed the name from Sweet Crumbs to Lisa’s Delights.

No more hiding behind anything.
My name. My brand. My rules.

The new logo? A hand holding a whisk—elegant, bold, and damn unapologetic.


---

Then one afternoon, Emily walked in.

Her expensive perfume floated in before she did.

She stood there awkwardly, her fingers clutching her phone, eyes darting around the newly remodeled interior.

“I just came to say… I didn’t know you were still together. I thought it was over.”

I looked her in the eyes. No tremble in my voice.

“You didn’t want to know.”

She blinked. I saw it—that crack in her confidence.

“I’m not angry,” I added. “You can have him. I’m baking joy now, not bitterness.”

She didn’t even order a cupcake.


---

Months passed. Orders flowed. So did healing.

I hired two interns—young women from Utalii, like I once was. Hungry. Curious. Full of sparkle. I told them the truth:
Never dim your light for anyone—not a man, not a job, not even love.

One busy Saturday afternoon, a customer left a note with her payment:

> “There’s something powerful about a woman who turns her pain into purpose.
Your cake healed something in me.”


I folded that note and tucked it next to the tiny sonogram I still kept. Not from grief—but from reverence.
That baby existed.
So did the love.
So did the pain.

And now—so did the strength.

---

The first time I went on a solo vacation, I wore a red wrap dress and deep maroon lipstick that made me feel dangerous. I ordered wine at a beach bar. I laughed with strangers.
And I watched the sun rise with only my heartbeat for company.

I wasn’t looking to be found.
I was already home—in myself.




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THE SWEETEST DEAL - Chapter 1: Heat In The Air

Image
The scent of cinnamon and vanilla clung to the air like a soft blanket, wrapping itself around the tiny bakery Lisa had built with her own two hands. It was her sanctuary — a place where sugar masked sorrow, and spice whispered secrets only she understood. The hum of mixers, the low jazz curling from the corner speaker, the golden afternoon light filtering through lace curtains — it was a world she’d crafted from scratch. Safe. Predictable. Hers. Outside, Nairobi pulsed with life — matatus honking, street vendors shouting, the sun baking the pavement until it shimmered. But in here, time slowed. In here, she was in control. Lisa stood behind the counter, her apron dusted in flour, piping the final swirl of buttercream onto a tray of cupcakes. Her fingers moved with precision, but her mind wandered. She’d been up since dawn — baking, prepping, avoiding the ache that sometimes crept in when the world got too quiet. The bell above the door jingled. She didn’t look up. Probably another...
Read more

THE SWEETEST DEAL - Chapter 2: Taste Of Risk

Image
The dress was a statement. Red. Silk. Backless. It clung to Lisa’s curves like it had been stitched for her skin alone. Every step she took felt like a dare — not just to the world, but to herself. She hadn’t worn red in years. Not since the night she’d walked away from a life that nearly consumed her. But tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about power. About reclaiming the parts of herself she’d buried beneath flour, sugar, and silence. The rooftop lounge loomed above Nairobi’s skyline like a secret whispered only to those bold enough to listen. From the moment she stepped out of the elevator, the city’s chaos melted away. Up here, everything was curated — the lighting, the music, the scent of citrus and smoke that lingered in the air like a promise. And then she saw him. Malik. He stood near the bar, dressed in black. No tie. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the strength beneath. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes — those dark, unreadable eyes — locked on her the mo...
Read more

THE SWEETEST DEAL - Chapter 3: After The Flame

Image
The rooftop had emptied. The crowd had thinned to a few lingering guests nursing cocktails and murmuring over city views. The music had softened to a low, sultry hum — jazz with a heartbeat. Nairobi glittered below, a sea of lights and secrets. But up here, the world had narrowed to two people. Lisa stood at the edge of the rooftop, her hands resting on the cool glass railing, the wind teasing strands of hair from her bun. The red silk of her dress clung to her skin, still warm from the heat of the kitchen, the spotlight, the way Malik had looked at her like she was something rare. Something dangerous. Behind her, footsteps approached. Slow. Certain. She didn’t turn. “You stayed,” Malik said, his voice low, close. “I wasn’t sure I would,” she replied. “Why did you?” Lisa exhaled, watching the city pulse below. “Because I wanted to see what you’d say when no one else was watching.” A pause. Then, “And what do you think I’ll say?” She turned to face him. Malik stood just a bre...
Read more