Levi’s POVR
“Alpha, are you sure you don’t need us to help you?” the head kitchen maid asked again, watching me with worried eyes.
I shook my head, already tying the apron around my waist. “No. I’ll handle this myself.”
She gave me a small bow and stepped back, watching me for a moment before quietly leaving the kitchen.
I took a deep breath and moved toward the counter, where the ingredients were neatly arranged. Flour, sugar, eggs, butter–everything I needed. My fingers lingered on the wooden spoon, and a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
I wanted to make cookies. The ones I used to make for Olivia when we were younger. I remember the first time I made them–it was terrible, even got burnt–but with a big smile on her face, Olivia ate it all, lling me it wasn’t the taste that mattered but the heart I used
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in making it.
That day… I had vowed to get better. I spent hours each week perfecting my technique. In a month, I was good at it–so good that every Saturday, I would make a fresh batch, just for her. Enough to last her the week. And without fail, every time I handed over that box of cookies, she smiled like it was the best thing in the
world.
Unfortunately, her fourteenth birthday was the last day I prepared cookies for her… in that box I gave her, a pack of cookies was inside too.
I inhaled sharply, pushing the thought aside before it
could drown me.
I took a deep breath and slowly began mixing, focusing on each step. The soft smell of butter filled the
kitchen, and for a moment, it felt like I was back in those peaceful days.
I just want her to smile again, it’s been long I saw her smile genuinely.
I wanted her to remember me–not the Alpha I’ve
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become, not the cold, distant man I was–but the boy who once burned cookies just to see her laugh.
Even if she never remembers… even if she never forgives me… at least I can remind her of the taste of something made with my heart.
I mixed the dough slowly, making sure everything was just right. When it was ready, I added the chocolate chips–Olivia’s favorite part. She always said I added too many, and I’d laugh and tell her to eat them all.
I put the dough on a tray and placed it in the oven. As the cookies baked, the kitchen started to smell warm and sweet, just like the old days. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.
When they were done, I packed them carefully in a small wooden box. It was the same kind of box I used to use when we were younger. I tied a ribbon around it and held it in my hands, staring at it. My heart felt heavy, but I also felt a little hope.
I walked to her room and stood at the door. After taking a deep breath, I knocked.
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“The door is open,” her voice said softly.
I opened the door and stepped inside. She was sitting on the bed with the book Lennox had given her in her lap. She looked at me, and for a second, I didn’t know
what to say.
“I… brought something for you,” I said, sounding tense.
She looked a bit confused as I walked closer and held
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