Jonah’s POV

As I step into the quaint little bakery, a high-pitched voice rings out to greet me. “Welcome to Golden Crust Bakery!” it chirps with unrestrained enthusiasm.

The voice belongs to a girl so tiny that she’s standing on a sturdy wooden stool to peer over the counter. She can’t be more than four years old, her dark, shiny hair braided neatly into twin pigtails. A miniature apron hangs on her small frame, clearly tailored to fit her diminutive ...