“I didn’t lie,” I said finally, barely above a whisper. “I just… didn’t share something that hurt too much. I didn’t think it would change anything.”
“But it did,” Marta said quietly. The retired teacher I admired so much didn’t raise her voice—and that somehow hurt more. “You let us believe you were fully transparent. How do we know you weren’t making private deals? How do we know you’re really fighting for us?”
The silence that followed was crushing.
Suddenly, I wasn’t in my bakery anymore.
I was standing at an altar again—alone, judged, stripped bare under the weight of countless accusing eyes.
Júlia stepped forward.
“Please,” she said firmly. “Let’s be fair. Valentina has always stood with us. She’s fought for this town from day one. She deserves our trust.”
But her words didn’t land.
They were swallowed by heavy stares and low murmurs of disapproval.
I searched desperately for something to say—anything that could bridge the gap forming in front of me—but my mind was empty.
Shame froze me in place.
My silence only seemed to confirm their doubts.
One by one, people began to stand.
Chairs scraped softly against the floor as they left the bakery, avoiding my eyes, whispering under their breath. Each step away felt like something vital being taken from me.
Júlia stayed beside me, helpless, as the room emptied.
When the last person was gone, she wrapped her arms around me.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“We’ll find a way,” she said quietly. “We always do.”
But all I felt was the hollow ache of abandonment.
That rejection—the disappointment in the eyes of people I trusted—hurt more than anything I’d felt since Enrico left me at the altar.
Still, when city hall formally invited me to a public event meant to ease tensions around Dreamland, I accepted immediately.
Not because I believed it would work.
But because I had nothing left to lose.
Standing on the makeshift stage in front of city hall days later, the weight of the crowd’s stares felt unbearable. Distrust clung to me everywhere now—inside my bakery, on the street, in every interaction since that disastrous meeting.
Those weeks were the hardest of my life.
My bakery, once warm and full of voices, became quiet and hollow. Regular customers rushed in and out, avoiding conversation. Sales dropped. Bills piled up on the counter like silent threats.
The town that had embraced me now treated me like a stranger.
People crossed the street to avoid me. Friends looked away. Whispers followed.
Even those I once called close slowly drifted out of my life.
Only Júlia stayed.
