Chapter Eleven - A Dance of Rebuilding

Over the next few weeks, Amelia threw herself into preparations for the festival. She experimented with countless flavor combinations, often working late into the night. The kitchen became her laboratory, filled with the aromas of simmering sauces and roasting meats. True to his word, Alessandro became a frequent presence during these late-night sessions. He would sit at the kitchen island, sampling Amelia's creations and offering suggestions. Their conversations, which started about food, often drifted to other topics – their childhoods, their dreams, their fears. One night, as Amelia was putting the finishing touches on a particularly complex dish, Alessandro asked the question she had been dreading. "Tell me about your bakery," he said, his voice gentle. "You never talk about it. Is everything alright?" Amelia's hands stilled on the plate she was arranging. She took a deep breath before turning to face him. "It's... struggling," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "