This is filler chapter soon will be replaced by actual chapter
A Rain-Scented Sunday
Rain beat a steady, comforting rhythm against the tall bay windows of the apartment. Outside, the world was wrapped in a misty, slate-gray haze, but inside, everything was golden light and the sweet, buttery aroma of vanilla and yeast.
Celine hummed softly under her breath, standing at the kitchen island with a wooden spoon in hand. Dust flew around her like micro-snowflakes as she tried—and failed—to neatly add flour to the batter bowl.
"You know," a deep, quiet voice echoed from the doorway, "I think more flour ended up on your sweater than in the bowl."
