First Visit - “This is dangerous.”
The bell above the bakery door chimed, signaling a new customer.
Film didn’t bother looking up from where she was kneading dough. It was late afternoon, the usual rush had died down, and she still had a hundred things to do before closing.
“Welcome to Little Finch. Take your time.”
Silence.
Odd. Most customers at least greeted her or went straight to the display case, eagerly eyeing the pastries.
Film finally glanced up—and immediately frowned.
Standing in the middle of her cozy little bakery was none other than Namtan Tipnaree.
Even if Film hadn’t recognized her immediately, the woman’s presence alone was impossible to ignore. She stood with the easy confidence of someone who had seen and judged it all, her sharp eyes scanning the shop like she was already drafting a scathing review in her head.
Namtan had made a name for herself as one of Bangkok’s most ruthless food critics. No restaurant, café, or bakery was safe.
And now she was here. In Film’s bakery.
Film wiped her hands on her apron, straightening. “You lost?”
Namtan raised an amused eyebrow. “Not exactly the warm welcome I was expecting.”
“I don’t do warm welcomes for critics who destroy businesses with a single article,” Film said flatly.
Namtan let out a low chuckle. “Ah. So you do know who I am.”
Hard not to, Film thought bitterly. A single bad review from Namtan had the power to ruin even the most well-loved cafés. And Film? She had worked too damn hard to build this place up from nothing.
She crossed her arms. “If you’re here to find flaws in my pastries, don’t bother. There’s plenty of fancy bakeries uptown for you to pick apart.”
Namtan hummed, stepping closer. “Maybe I just wanted a dessert.”
Film narrowed her eyes. “And maybe I believe that as much as I believe in sugar-free cake.”
Namtan smirked. “You’re a feisty one.”
Film clenched her jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. “What do you want?”
Namtan studied the display case, tapping a finger against the glass as she considered. Then she pointed at one of the honey lavender tarts—a customer favorite.
“I’ll take one of these.”
Film hesitated. If she refused, it would look like she was afraid of a bad review. And Film Rachanun wasn’t afraid of anyone.
Not even Namtan Tipnaree.
Wordlessly, she grabbed the tart, plated it, and set it down on the counter.
Namtan slid into a seat by the window, taking her time, as if she were testing Film’s patience on purpose. Then, finally, she took a bite.
Film watched. Waited.
Namtan closed her eyes briefly as she chewed. “Mm.”
…That was not the reaction Film had expected.
When Namtan opened her eyes, there was something different in them. “This is dangerous.”
Film frowned. “Excuse me?”
“This tart.” Namtan gestured with her fork. “It’s the kind of dessert that makes a person forget every bad day they’ve ever had. Makes them want to come back, even when they swore they wouldn’t.”
Film blinked. She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or some kind of trick.
"So... you like it?” She asked cautiously.
Namtan smiled, slow and knowing. “Oh, I am more than like it.”
Film tried to ignore the way her heartbeat stumbled at that look.
She cleared her throat. “Good. Then you can eat it and leave.”
Namtan laughed, low and warm. “What if I want to stay?”
Film exhaled sharply. “Why would you?”
Namtan rested her chin on her hand, watching her with an unreadable expression. “I don’t know yet. But I have a feeling I’ll be back to figure it out.”
And just like that, the infamous food critic finished the last bite of her tart, left cash on the table, and walked out of Little Finch like she had all the time in the world.
Film stared after her, a strange mix of irritation and intrigue simmering in her chest.
She had no idea what had just happened.
But something told her this wasn’t the last she’d see of Namtan Tipnaree.
✦✦✦✦
The Second Visit – “Miss Me?”
The doorbell chimed.
Film, who had been blissfully enjoying a quiet afternoon, groaned the second she saw who it was.
“You again?”
Namtan grinned, stepping inside like she owned the place. “Miss me?”
Film set down the tray of éclairs she had been decorating. “No. What do you want this time?”
Namtan hummed, walking straight to the counter and scanning the display like she was about to conduct a serious investigation.
“I don’t know... everything looks so tempting today,” she mused.
Film crossed her arms. “Then pick one and leave.”
Namtan smirked. “So rude. What if I just want to enjoy your company?”
“Then I’d say you have terrible taste.”
“I do have a habit of liking things that are bad for me.”
Film blinked at the sudden shift in her tone—low and teasing.
Before she could respond, Namtan pointed at a dessert.
“I’ll take a lemon tart today.”
With an exasperated sigh, Film plated the tart and handed it over.
As Namtan picked up her fork, she glanced at Film, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I think of it?”
“No,” Film deadpanned. “Eat it and go.”
Namtan grinned, unfazed.
And just like before, she finished her dessert slowly, dragged out her stay longer than necessary, and left with a playful, “See you soon.”
Film scowled.
She had a bad feeling about this.
✦✦✦✦
The Third Visit – “Is This a Date?”
By the third time Namtan came back, Film was convinced she was being haunted.
Or worse—courted.
Because no normal customer showed up this often, right before closing, always ordering a single pastry and then staying just long enough to drive Film insane.
This time, Film didn’t even wait for the bell to finish chiming before she turned, arms crossed. “Do you seriously not have anywhere else to be?”
Namtan leaned against the counter, looking smug. “Not when I have such great company here.”
Film groaned. “I am going to ban you.”
Namtan gasped dramatically. “You’d break my heart like that?”
Film rolled her eyes and grabbed a small plate. “What do you want?”
Hmm. Surprise me.”
“No. Pick one.”
“Why not? Afraid I won’t like what you choose?”
Film had never wanted to throw a cupcake at someone so badly.
Gritting her teeth, she grabbed a strawberry shortcake—her personal favorite, not that she’d admit it—and placed it in front of Namtan.
“There. Happy?”
Namtan studied the cake, then Film, lips twitching. “Interesting choice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Namtan picked up her fork and took a slow bite. “Mmm. Sweet. Soft. A little messy—” she licked a bit of cream off her lips, eyes flicking to Film’s, “—but unexpectedly addicting.”
Film’s brain short-circuited.
Her stomach flipped.
Her soul left her body.
Was she—?? Was Namtan flirting with her using cake metaphors??
Film scowled, feeling her face heat. “Are you always this annoying?”
“Only when I like someone,” Namtan said smoothly, taking another bite.
Film nearly choked on air.
“I—I—” she spluttered. “I am not dealing with this today.”
She turned and marched straight into the kitchen, ignoring Namtan’s laugh echoing behind her.
“Does this mean we’re on a date now?” Namtan called out.
Film slammed the door.
✦✦✦✦
The Fourth Visit – “You’re Impossible.”
By the fourth time, Film had given up.
She didn’t even react when Namtan walked in; she merely grabbed a coconut tart and placed it on the counter without a word.
Namtan blinked, surprised. “Oh? No greeting today?”
Film stared at her blankly.
Namtan grinned. “What, no sarcastic remark? No threats to kick me out?”
Film sighed. “I’m too tired to fight you today.”
Namtan smirked, sitting down. “So you look forward to our fights?”
Film immediately regretted her words.
“Forget I said anything.”
“Too late.” Namtan took a bite of the tart. “You like me.”
Film rolled her eyes. “I tolerate you.”
“Mm-hmm. And next, you’ll say you actually enjoy seeing me here.”
“I’d rather eat raw flour.”
Namtan laughed—the kind of genuine, unguarded laugh that made something weirdly warm bloom in Film’s chest.
They sat in silence for a moment, Film pretending not to notice how Namtan always took her time and always found a reason to linger.
Finally, Namtan leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand.
“You know,” she mused, “most people would have kicked me out by now.”
“Trust me, I’ve considered it.”
“So why haven’t you?”
Film froze.
The answer was obvious.
But she wasn’t about to say it out loud.
So instead, she turned away and muttered, “Because I like your money.”
Namtan snorted. “Liar.”
Film ignored her and busied herself with wiping the counter.
But even as she pretended not to care, she could feel it—the shift between them. The way their teasing was starting to feel less like a game and more like something real.
And somehow, without her even noticing, Namtan had carved out a place in her world.
One tart at a time.
✦✦✦✦
The Fifth Visit – “You’re Late.”
The bakery was already closed when Namtan arrived.
She could see it in the way the chairs were stacked, the lights dimmed, and the sign on the door flipped to CLOSED.
But the warm glow from the kitchen in the back told her Film was still inside.
Namtan grinned. Perfect.
She knocked twice, then pushed the door open.
The scent of freshly baked bread and vanilla filled the air as she stepped in.
From behind the counter, Film didn’t even bother looking up.
“You’re late.”
Namtan blinked. “You were expecting me?”
"No.” Film deadpanned. “I was hoping you finally got a life.”
Namtan chuckled. “You wound me, Chef.”
Film sighed, wiping flour off her hands. “What do you want?”
“I was craving something sweet.” Namtan leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “And maybe I missed you.”
Film threw a kitchen towel at her face.
“Shut up and come here.”
Namtan barely had time to react before Film turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
For a moment, she just stood there, stunned.
Wait.
Did Film just—invite her in??
That had never happened before.
Shaking off her surprise, Namtan followed.
✦✦✦✦
Film was already back at the worktable, sleeves rolled up, hands deep in a large mound of dough.
Namtan couldn’t help but stare.
There was something ridiculously attractive about watching Film work—her brows furrowed in concentration, the flour dusting her skin, the way her hands moved with practiced ease as she kneaded the dough.
Film glanced up. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”
Namtan blinked. “Excuse me?”
Film grabbed another lump of dough and shoved it into Namtan’s hands. “Help.”
Namtan raised an eyebrow. “You want me—a food critic—to make bread?”
“You want free dessert, don’t you?” Film shot back.
“…I feel like I’m being blackmailed.”
Film smirked. “Smart girl. Now get to work.”
Namtan huffed but rolled up her sleeves. “Fine. But if this turns out terrible, I take no responsibility.”
She pressed her hands into the dough, mimicking Film’s movements.
Or at least, she tried.
Five minutes in, it became painfully clear she had no idea what she was doing.
“This is a disaster,” Film muttered, watching Namtan fumble.
Namtan scowled. “Excuse me, I am trying.”
“You’re going to ruin everything.”
“Oh, please, it’s just dough—”
“You’re handling it wrong.”
“I am not—”
“You’re killing it.”
Namtan rolled her eyes. “It’s bread, not a patient on life support.”
Film groaned and moved behind her, grabbing her hands.
Namtan’s breath caught.
Film’s hands were smaller but strong, her palms warm against Namtan’s own as she guided her fingers through the motions.
“Like this,” Film murmured, voice closer now.
Namtan barely heard her.
Because suddenly, all she could focus on was the feeling of Film pressed against her back—the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the scent of vanilla and butter in her hair.
“…You’re not listening,” Film accused.
Namtan swallowed. “Nope.”
Film sighed but didn’t pull away. “God, you’re impossible.”
Namtan smirked. “You like me, though.”
Film froze.
Her hands twitched against Namtan’s.
For a second, Namtan thought she had gone too far—
Then, to her complete and utter shock—
Film didn’t deny it.
She just sighed in defeat and muttered under her breath,
“…Unfortunately.”
Just like that, Namtan forgot how to breathe.
Her heartbeat skipped.
“…Wait,” Namtan said slowly, turning her head. “Did you just admit—”
“Shut up,” Film cut in, cheeks burning.
Namtan grinned.
“Oh, I am never letting this go.”
Film groaned. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Film shoved a handful of flour in her face.
✦✦✦✦
By the time they finished, the kitchen was a flour-covered battlefield, and Film was deeply regretting her life choices.
Namtan, still laughing from the flour attack, sat on the counter with a plate of warm, freshly baked rolls.
Film stood beside her, arms crossed, watching as Namtan took a bite.
“Well?” Film asked, eyebrow raised.
Namtan chewed thoughtfully, then sighed. “Annoying as you are, I can’t deny it. This is perfect.”
Film smirked. “Told you.”
Namtan set the plate aside, licking a bit of flour off her fingers. “So…” She glanced at Film, eyes twinkling. “Now that you’ve admitted you like me—”
Film glared. “I did not.”
“—how about I take you on a date?”
Film opened her mouth—probably to tell her to drop dead—but then... hesitated.
For a moment, something passed between them.
The teasing. The late nights. The way Film always let Namtan stay, even when she pretended to hate it.
Maybe, just maybe, this was inevitable.
Film exhaled. “Fine.”
Namtan blinked.
“…Wait. Did you just—”
“Before I change my mind.”
Namtan grinned so wide it could have split the sky in two.
“You so like me.”
Film grabbed a rolling pin. “I swear to God—”
Namtan bolted from the counter, laughing as Film chased her around the kitchen.
And somewhere, between the laughter, the teasing, and the taste of warm bread in the air—
Namtan realized something.
She had won.
And Film?
She had never stood a chance.