The Bride Widow
Chapter 118: Ch 118: Can I borrow her - Part 1

Chapter 118: Ch 118: Can I borrow her - Part 1

Anabella’s day had been surprisingly good for once. The bakery was busy but manageable, her customers were pleasant, and even Mr. Callum seemed more cheerful than usual. No missed calls. No probing texts. No mention of Daniel Ross or her failed marriage. Just the comforting aroma of bread baking and the hum of the ovens at work.

She allowed herself to relax, even smiling as she set a tray of warm pastries on the display shelf. This was the life she’d dreamed of—simple, steady, and far from the chaos of her past.

The little bell above the bakery’s front door chimed softly, signaling another customer. Anabella turned, ready to greet whoever walked in—until she saw him.

Her blood ran cold.

Noah.

He strolled into the bakery with an easy, self-assured grace that made her stomach twist. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on her, unreadable yet piercing, just as she remembered.

He looked just the same—tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features carved by time and experience. He wore a tailored coat that fit him perfectly, exuding quiet power.

What unsettled her most wasn’t seeing him—it was the fact that he didn’t look surprised to see her.

Anabella’s pulse quickened as he approached the counter, his expression calm, almost expectant. She struggled to find her voice, her hands gripping the edge of the counter.

"Noah, What... what are you doing here?"

she said, forcing herself to sound composed.

He smiled faintly, a controlled, knowing smile that made her skin prickle.

"Getting something to eat. What about you?"

He replied smoothly. But Anabelle expertly pretended as if she had not heard him speak a word of this to her.

His tone was polite, almost amused, as if this was the most normal encounter in the world. As if they hadn’t seen each other in years. As if her entire world wasn’t teetering on edge just from his presence.

Anabella narrowed her eyes, regaining some of her composure.

"This bakery is very out of your way. What are the odds you’d walk in here of all places?"

She pointed out, trying to sound casual.

Noah’s gaze never wavered.

"Maybe I wanted something... familiar,"

He said softly, his voice carrying a weight she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Her stomach churned. She refused to let him unnerve her, not after everything.

"Are you spying on me?"

She asked, only half-joking.

He tilted his head, studying her with quiet intensity.

"No, of course not. I just know a lot about you."

He said evenly, his voice low and steady.

The air between them crackled with something sharp and dangerous. Anabella’s breath hitched, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or issuing a veiled threat.

"Right. Well... what can I get you?"

She cleared her throat, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Noah’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, making her feel exposed despite the apron and flour-streaked clothes she wore. Finally, he glanced down at the display case, his expression thoughtful.

"Two almond croissants and a black coffee."

He said smoothly, sliding a crisp bill across the counter. Anabella realized that this order was not his but Clair’s. Noah liked his coffee with sugar and a lot of it.

Her hands trembled slightly as she rang up the order, cursing herself for reacting at all. This was her life, her safe place, and she wouldn’t let Noah take that from her.

She placed his order in a small paper bag, setting it on the counter with practiced efficiency.

"Here you go."

She said curtly, hoping he would just leave.

But Noah didn’t move. He picked up the bag slowly, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest second—a touch so light yet charged with tension that it made her breath hitch again.

"Thank you."

He said quietly, his voice almost... sincere.

Anabella clenched her jaw, refusing to be drawn into whatever game he was playing.

As he turned to leave, her mind raced with questions. Why was he here? How did he even find her? Was this just a coincidence—or something more calculated?

Before he could step out the door, she spoke up, unable to stop herself.

"Noah."

He paused but didn’t turn around.

"Why are you really here?"

She demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.

He stood still for a moment, as though considering how much truth to give her. Then, without looking back, he simply said:

"Take care of yourself, Anabella."

And with that, he walked out, leaving her alone in the bakery... and more unsettled than ever.

Anabella watched through the bakery’s window as Noah strolled down the street, disappearing into the evening crowd. Her shoulders sagged with relief. He was gone. Whatever twisted game he was playing was over—for now. She could finally breathe again.

Or so she thought.

Before she could fully gather herself, the bell above the bakery door jingled again. Her head snapped up, eyes widening as Noah casually walked back inside, as if he’d forgotten something—or someone.

"Miss me already?"

He asked with a teasing smirk, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

Anabella clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay calm.

"What do you want now, Noah?"

He placed his hands in his coat pockets, tilting his head thoughtfully. "

You know, leaving felt...wrong. I couldn’t just let you stay here all alone."

He glanced around the bakery, his expression turning almost playful

Anabella scowled.

"You can’t just—"

Before she could finish, Noah’s gaze landed on the bakery’s manager, a petite, soft-spoken woman named Mrs. Elara, who was arranging bread near the counter.

"Excuse me, ma’am. Would it be possible for me to borrow Anabella for the rest of the day?"

Noah interrupted politely, flashing a charming smile.

Mrs. Elara blinked, caught off guard. "B-Borrow?"

Anabella felt her heart leap into her throat. "He’s joking," she said quickly, shooting Noah a glare. "Please ignore him."

But Noah ignored her entirely, keeping his focus on Mrs. Elara.

"I promise to return her in one piece," he added smoothly.