The Morning After and a Shared Secret

The scent of victory, a mixture of a sweet, triumphant dessert and the quiet, intoxicating aroma of a shared secret, lingered in the air. Anika woke in the massive bed, the sun streaming through the windows, but her mind was not on the day ahead. It was on the night before—on the warmth of Vikram's hand in hers, the thrill of their shared triumph, and the quiet, breathless confession that had blossomed into a kiss. She looked at him now, still asleep beside her, his face serene and unguarded, and her heart did a little flutter-kick in her chest. The cold, ruthless man from the bakery was gone, replaced by a partner, a lover, a man who had finally let his guard down.