The air inside the ride was heavy with heat and anticipation. The scent of old machinery and burning oil clung to the darkness. Elin's hands tightened around the metal bar as the Revenge of the Mummy ride jolted forward, plunging them into an abyss of roaring sound and flashing light.
A gust of hot wind hit her face as the cart hurtled down the first drop. She gasped, the sound swallowed by a chorus of screams echoing through the chamber. Fire flared on either side of the track, illuminating the carved walls, the flashes of gold, and the ancient hieroglyphs that glared from the darkness.
Beside her, Sebastian laughed. The sound was deep and unrestrained, cutting through the chaos like something alive. It wasn't the arrogant laugh she'd expected. It was genuine, even warm. He looked completely at ease, one hand resting on the safety bar, the other braced casually near her seat as if he'd done this a hundred times.
The cart twisted sharply, throwing her sideways. Instinctively, she reached out, and her fingers brushed against his arm. The contact was brief, electric, and she felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt tense in response.
When the ride screeched to a halt, her pulse was still pounding.
Sebastian stepped out first, smooth and composed, as if he hadn't just been tossed through fire and shadow. He looked back at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "You scream more than I expected."
Elin pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. "You try staying calm while being chased by cursed mummies."
"That's what makes it fun," he said, still smiling.
They exited into the glaring sunlight. The contrast made her squint, the brightness turning everything gold and too vivid; the stone courtyard, the tourists posing for photos, and the distant shrieks from the roller coaster looping overhead.
Sweat clung to her neck, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand.
Sebastian slid his sunglasses back on, looking perfectly at ease. "That was exhilarating," he said. "We should do it again."
"Over my dead body," she shot back, brushing hair from her face.
He glanced at her, his expression softening. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She exhaled a laugh. "Just... my heart's still in Egypt."
He chuckled, a low sound that made her look up at him. "Good. Means you're alive."
For a moment, they stood there, surrounded by the hum of laughter and the scent of popcorn and caramel.
Sebastian watched her for a while, then said quietly, "There it is."
She turned to him, puzzled. "What?"
"That smile," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "The one I said would suit you."
Her laughter faltered for a heartbeat, replaced by something softer. She looked away, her cheeks warming. "You have a strange way of complimenting people."
"I have a strange way of meaning them, too," he replied.
They strolled toward the next section of the park, the sound of roller coaster screams echoing faintly overhead. He bought two cold drinks without asking, handing one to her. Their fingers brushed again. This time, neither of them looked away.
"Still think this was a bad idea?" he asked.
Elin hesitated. The responsible part of her, the one that usually won whispered that this was a bad idea. That she should be home, or at the bakery, or waiting for Axton to call. But the sunlight was warm, the air alive, and for once, the ache in her chest didn't feel so heavy.
She shook her head lightly. "Maybe not."
Sebastian's lips curved in quiet satisfaction. "Good."
They continued walking, passing the ancient ruins façade toward the next ride. Elin could feel his gaze on her every so often — not invasive, not demanding, just... aware. It unsettled her, how easily he seemed to read her without her saying anything.
At one point, a gust of wind caught her hair, sweeping it across her face. Sebastian reached out instinctively, brushing a loose strand back before he could think better of it. His fingertips barely grazed her cheek, but it was enough to make her breath hitch.
"Sorry," he murmured, withdrawing his hand.
"It's fine," she said quickly, her voice too soft.
He smiled faintly, but didn't push further.
Elin and Sebastian fell into step naturally, their pace unhurried as they made their way past the souvenir stalls.
He bought her a bottle of water before she could protest. "You'll thank me later," he said, his tone light.
"I was going to get one," she replied, but her voice softened. "Thanks."
They found a spot beneath the shade of a palm tree, where the humid breeze carried the sound of laughter and distant music. She took a sip of water, trying to cool her racing thoughts. Sebastian leaned against the railing, his shirt catching the light, his gaze following the boats gliding lazily down the lagoon.
"You come here often?" he asked after a moment, his tone casual.
She shook her head. "No. Last time I came here, I was still in school. We had a class trip. I remember saving up for weeks to buy a keychain."
"And was it worth it?"
"It broke after two days," she said with a laugh. "But I kept the pieces."
He smiled faintly. "That sounds like you."
"Like me?" she echoed, curious.
"You hold on to things even after they stop working." His tone was light, but the words hung between them with a quiet weight.
Her eyes flicked toward him, uncertain whether to be offended or thoughtful. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," he said softly. "It's human."
They sat quietly for a while, the easy kind of silence that didn't demand to be filled. Then he spoke again, voice gentler this time. "So, tell me about Bluebell Bakes. Why the name?"
Her lips curved faintly. "It was my grandmother's idea. She loved bluebells — said they meant humility and gratitude. The 'bakes' part just... stuck."
"She must have been proud of you," Sebastian said.
"She didn't live to see it," Elin admitted, her voice dipping. "But... I think she would've been."
He nodded, the teasing edge gone from his face. "She would've been proud. The place feels like you — calm, a little stubborn, but warm once you stay long enough."
Her brows lifted slightly. "You talk like you've spent hours in my bakery."
He smiled. "Maybe I have."
Elin blinked, trying to read him. "You mean—"
"Not just recently," he said, his tone smooth but sincere. "I've been there before. Quietly. You never noticed."
"You... have?"
He looked out at the water, as if watching his own reflection there. "It's a good place to think. And your croissants are criminally good."
She couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. "You could've said something."
"And ruin your image of the mysterious customer who never complains? Never."
"Very funny," she said, rolling her eyes.
He turned back to her, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "You should laugh more. It suits you better than all that worrying."
Her throat tightened slightly. "You don't even know me."
"Don't I?" he asked softly.
The sound of the park faded a little, replaced by the slow rhythm of her heartbeat.
To break the moment, Sebastian stood. "Come on. I owe you an ice cream."
"You don't owe me anything," she said, but she followed him anyway.
They ended up sharing a small tub of soft-serve under a giant umbrella near the Ancient Egypt zone. He insisted on holding it while she took the first spoonful.
"Chocolate?" he guessed.
"Vanilla," she said.
"Predictable."
They walked side by side, their pace unhurried. The conversation came easily—too easily. He asked about the bakery, her favourite flavours, how she came up with her recipes. She teased him about his inability to tell macarons from macaroons. He told her stories about his travels, about missing flights and almost being stranded in Italy.
Each laugh between them chipped away at her caution, softening the guarded edges of her heart. She told herself it was harmless. That it was just nice to have company.
But when she turned to look at him and caught the way he was already watching her with quiet, intent focus, something inside her stuttered.
Then she reminded herself: He's Axton's rival.
"You're ridiculous," she said, trying not to smile.
"Maybe. But you smiled, so I'm taking that as a win."
He was leaning a little too close, his tone low, teasing. The air between them hummed with something unspoken.
And that was the exact moment Axton found them.
He had seen her before she saw him.
He had walked through the crowd like a man possessed, his jaw set, his pulse steady only because he forced it to be. Vivian trailed beside him, heels clicking against the pavement. She looked effortlessly composed, her coral lipstick unblemished, her expression a careful mix of interest and amusement.
"You really came all the way here," she said softly, almost to herself. "For her."
Axton didn't answer. His eyes had already found Elin—her bright yellow sundress, her loose hair, the easy way she leaned into Sebastian's space as she laughed.
His stomach twisted.
It had been a long time since he'd seen her like that. The version of her he'd been getting lately was quieter, gentler, weighed down by disappointment she refused to voice. And yet here she was, laughing with another man like she hadn't been hurt at all.
Beside him, Vivian's voice was almost a whisper. "Now do you see what happens when you're not around?"
He ignored her. The jealousy that surged through him was raw, sharp, and unfamiliar.
He didn't want to believe it but the truth was right in front of him.
When Elin finally turned and saw him, the world seemed to tilt.
The sound of the crowd dulled. Her smile froze, her hands tightening around the plush toy. For a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe.
"Axton?" Her voice was barely audible, her expression shifting from surprise to guilt to something almost like fear.
Sebastian's hand dropped casually to his side, his posture still relaxed. Only his eyes sharpened. "Well," he murmured, "this is unexpected."
Elin's heart hammered. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he replied.
"I took a day off. Everyone needs one."
Axton's eyes softened for half a second before guilt flickered there. "You could've told me."
"You were busy," she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "You said you couldn't come."
He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "So you asked him instead?"
"I didn't ask him," she replied quickly. "He offered. I didn't think—"
"No," he interrupted, his voice low. "You didn't."
The sting of it caught her off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Vivian said lightly, stepping forward, "that Axton left a meeting for this. Because someone mentioned you were here." She turned to Elin, her smile all polished civility. "You must be quite the distraction."
Elin's chest tightened. "Vivian, this isn't your concern."
"Oh, on the contrary," Vivian said, voice smooth as glass. "Axton's distractions tend to affect entire companies."
"Enough," Axton snapped, his tone sharper than intended. The word hung between them like static.
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "Maybe you should go, Axton. You're upsetting her."
Axton turned on him, his control slipping for the first time. "You don't get to tell me what upsets her."
Elin couldn't take it anymore. "Can we talk?" she asked, looking at Axton. Her voice trembled, but she steadied it. "Somewhere quieter."
Axton nodded immediately, as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. "Of course."
She turned to Sebastian, her tone gentler. "Would you mind waiting for a bit?"
Sebastian hesitated. His eyes softened as they met hers. "Take your time."
Axton led her to a shaded corner near the lagoon, away from the noise. The distant sounds of rollercoasters and laughter echoed like memories she didn't want to touch.
He swallowed hard before speaking. "You look like you're having a good time."
The words were simple, but they carried weight. His tone was too even, too careful. It was the kind of calm that came before something broke.
Elin hesitated, unsure how to answer. "We were just... trying out the rides. It's been a while."
Axton's eyes lingered on the plush in her hands. "He wins you prizes now?"
Her pulse skipped. "It's not like that."
"I tried calling you," he said quietly. "During the meeting. You didn't answer."
She looked down. "I needed time to myself."
"By yourself," he repeated, his voice dropping. "Or with him?"
Before she can retort, he spoke again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your day."
"You didn't," she said softly, though her voice trembled. "You just... surprised me."
His hand raked through his hair, a habit she knew well. "Elin, I shouldn't have missed today. I know I promised."
"You did promise," she whispered. "And I believed you."
He winced. "I wanted to come. I just—"
"—didn't," she finished, her tone quiet but firm. "You didn't come. And I tried to tell myself it was okay, that work mattered. But it's been happening a lot lately, hasn't it?"
He looked at her then, his chest tightening. "You're right."
Axton ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his voice. "I'm trying, Elin. I'm holding this company together. It's not something I can just walk away from because you want a day out."
Her heart sank. "It's not about a day out. It's about feeling like I matter enough to be part of your world."
He froze. The words hit him harder than he expected. "You think you don't?"
She gave a quiet, broken laugh. "You didn't even notice how much I wanted this. Not really. You were too busy saving the world from collapsing under Creighton's name."
He wanted to argue, but the truth caught in his throat. He saw now — the sadness in her eyes, the exhaustion beneath her smile. It wasn't anger she carried. It was disappointment. And that hurt worse.
"Elin," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just thought... you'd understand."
"I do," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "That's the problem."
They stood there for what felt like forever, neither daring to look at the other. The sound of the lagoon's fountain filled the silence.
When Elin finally looked up, her expression was tired, resigned. "You didn't have to come here."
"Yes, I did." His voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it now. "Because I saw him. And I can't pretend it doesn't bother me."
Her brows furrowed. "Sebastian?"
"Yeah. It hit me harder than I thought it would. I walked into the park, saw you standing there beside him, smiling—and it just..." He trailed off, exhaling sharply. "It felt like I'd already lost you."
Her breath caught, the air between them suddenly heavy.
"I know it's irrational," he continued, forcing a strained laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "But the thought of you finding comfort with someone else, someone who isn't always buried under work... it scared me. It felt like you were slipping through my fingers and I couldn't stop it."
She stared at him, unsure what to say. For all the sharp edges that usually defined Axton Creighton, this version of him—quiet, uncertain, exposed—was one she rarely saw.
He finally looked up, his expression raw. "I saw the way he looked at you. The way you laughed with him. And all I could think was that maybe you'd realized you deserve someone who shows up. Someone who doesn't keep choosing meetings over you."
Her lips parted, her heart squeezing painfully. "Axton..."
"I know I've been failing you," he said, cutting in gently. "You don't have to tell me that. I keep telling myself it's temporary—that once things settle, we'll have time. But things never really settle, do they? There's always another crisis, another project, another excuse."
His voice broke on the last word.
Elin's chest ached. He looked utterly lost. The confidence that had always surrounded him like armour had cracked, leaving only the man beneath—tired, remorseful, and afraid of losing the woman who'd softened his world.
She stepped closer, her voice quiet. "Axton... I never wanted you to choose between me and your work. I just wanted to feel like I still had a place in your life."
He met her eyes finally, and for a moment, all the walls between them fell. "You do," he whispered. "You always do. I just don't know how to hold on without hurting you."
The honesty in his tone shattered her composure.
"Axton!"
Vivian's tone was bright and practiced, but it sliced through the quiet like a blade. He stiffened.
Elin turned toward the sound, then back at him. Her voice wavered. "Don't go."
He froze.
"Please," she whispered. "Stay. Just for today. Forget the meetings, forget whatever she wants. Stay with me. You said you'd make it up to me. Do it now."
Her hand lifted before she could stop herself, brushing against his sleeve, her touch trembling. "Don't walk away again."
Axton looked down at her hand, at the small shake of her fingers. His chest rose and fell slowly, his mind warring with itself.
Vivian called his name again, closer this time.
Elin's voice broke. "Please."
He met her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, the rest of the world disappeared. He wanted to stay. God, he wanted to. But duty and pride had always been louder than his heart.
"I can't," he said finally, his voice a whisper.
Her hand fell away.
He reached out as if to touch her, then stopped himself. "I'll fix this," he said softly, though even he didn't sound sure. "I'll find a way."
And then he turned, his shoulders rigid, walking toward Vivian's voice without looking back.
Elin stood there long after he was gone, her throat tight, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest until it hurt to breathe.