March 15, 2025.
The sunlight spilled gently through the apartment window, carrying the soft promise of spring.
Lily sat beside Clara at the kitchen table, papers spread everywhere — notes, sketches, and menus filled with ideas.
"So," Lily said, smiling brightly, "what should we call it?"
Clara blinked, tilting her head slightly. "Call what?"
"Our dessert shop," Lily said. "You know — the one we've been talking about for months! It's time we make it real."
For a moment, Clara just stared at her, her porcelain-smooth fingers resting on the edge of the table. Even now, after all these years, she sometimes forgot that she was allowed to dream.
Then she smiled softly. "I think… I'd like that."
---
The following weeks were filled with quiet excitement.
They looked at small rental spaces around town until they found one near the corner of a peaceful street — a little shop with wide front windows and a faded sign.
It wasn't perfect, but to Clara, it felt like a place waiting to be loved again.
They cleaned it together, painted the walls a warm cream color, and hung soft lights that glowed like morning sunlight.
Lily's mother joined in too, organizing supplies and helping design the counter display.
"You have a real gift, Clara," she said one evening as they arranged plates. "People will feel happy just walking in here."
Clara smiled shyly. "Then I'll do my best to make every cookie feel like home."
---
They decided on a name together:
> "Clara's Crumble."
A simple name, but when Lily said it aloud, it felt perfect.
By April 27, 2025, everything was ready.
The shop smelled of fresh vanilla, butter, and sugar. The display case was filled with trays of golden cookies, soft cakes, and delicate pastries.
Lily stood beside her, holding her hand. "Are you ready?"
Clara nodded, though her heart fluttered nervously. "I think so."
Lily smiled and flipped the sign on the door.
> OPEN.
---
At first, only a few people wandered in — neighbors, friends from the apartment building, curious passersby drawn by the warm scent.
But by afternoon, the small shop was filled with laughter.
Children pressed their noses to the glass case, trying to choose their favorites. Couples shared cups of coffee near the window. Someone even said softly, "It feels peaceful here."
Clara stood behind the counter, wearing her white apron and a quiet smile. She thanked every customer and offered free samples to those who couldn't decide.
Every "thank you," every smile, every laugh — it all felt real.
---
That night, when the shop finally closed, Clara stood by the door, looking out at the street as the last traces of sunlight faded.
Lily came to stand beside her. "You did it," she said softly.
Clara shook her head. "We did it."
Lily smiled. "No, Clara. This is yours. You built something beautiful."
---
Clara looked back at the little shop — the lights still glowing warm and golden, the scent of sugar still in the air.
For the first time in more than a hundred years, she wasn't just existing.
She was living a new life — one made not from magic or accidents, but from kindness, hard work, and love.
And deep inside, she knew that even Jacob Moreau — the man she had once been — would have smiled to see it.