2025-05-25 21:42:41
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258. Something Sweet
The afternoon sun slanted warm and golden across the kitchen tiles. The radio murmured a gentle folk tune as the scent of rising dough filled the room. Ivy moved about quietly, tying her apron at the waist, watching the yeast bubbles swell. A peaceful routine — the kind she’d longed for during the worst of the past months — and yet, her fingers felt tense. Her mind tugged at loose threads.Behind her, Lila laughed brightly at something Billy had said. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the family room, surrounded by crayons and sketch paper, her glossy hair falling in soft waves as she leaned in to help Chloe draw a castle.Ivy turned slightly, watching. Nothing overtly strange. Lila was good with the kids. Kind. She always knew what to say. Maybe too well.She stirred the batter again, slower this time.“Hey Ivy,” Lila called out. “Do you think Van would like a pecan tart? I was thinking of trying a new recipe before the fair.”Ivy wiped her hands and walked over, a smile f
257. The List
The house Lila lived in was nothing like Van’s.It sat on the far side of town, a modest one-bedroom flat carved into the upper floor of a converted duplex. The windows were narrow, the ceiling slanted in places, and the kitchen could be crossed in three steps. There was no manicured garden, no warm hum of family in the rooms — just silence, broken only by the ticking of a crooked clock mounted on a wall that hadn’t been repainted in years.Lila stepped inside, kicked off her shoes, and dropped the charming canvas tote onto a kitchen chair. It landed with a soft thud, displacing the stack of unopened letters already there.She stood still for a moment, taking a deep breath. The light was different here — colder, more severe — and the air had a dusty edge. She didn’t mind. She preferred it this way.No one to put on a show for.No one watching her smile too long or stand too close.She made tea, not because she needed it, but because it gave her hands something to do. Then she moved th
256. A Stand-In
It was a lazy Saturday morning, the kind that drifted in slow and warm like honey over toast. The town square buzzed softly with early shoppers and the bright clamor of the weekend market. Wooden stalls were dressed in bunting and baskets overflowed with summer produce — peaches, vine tomatoes, ears of corn stacked like firewood. Musicians plucked strings under an awning while children danced in the chalked lines drawn across the street.Van had one hand loosely curled around Ivy’s while the other balanced a tote full of vegetables. The twins skipped ahead with paper cones of kettle corn, their laughter light and tangling in the air like smoke.Lila met them by the booth that sold beeswax candles and hand-carved soap. She wore a white linen blouse tucked into faded jeans and carried a tote of her own, already half-filled.“You’re late,” Ivy teased.“You’re early,” Lila replied, flashing a warm smile.She reached out to tousle Chloe’s curls. “You still want to help me pick out a gift f
255. A Part Of The Family
Van sat cross-legged on the living room floor, a half-assembled wooden train track winding around him in a wide arc. One of the twins — Billy— was determined to create a “rollercoaster loop,” while his sister Chloe perched on the couch, carefully drawing in a spiral-bound sketchbook. Ivy wandered in from the kitchen with a bowl of strawberries, popping one into her mouth before tossing a few to the kids. Her eyes found Van's, and they exchanged a look that was equal parts affection and quiet relief.It was the first time in months that their home felt like a home again.Outside, the afternoon sun cast a golden spill across the windows. Someone had lit a barbecue two doors down — a curl of smoke rose into the sky, mixed with the smell of grilled onions and sweet corn.Peace, Van thought. This is peace.The doorbell rang.“I’ll get it!” Chloe yelled, already sprinting toward the door.Van got up more slowly, brushing wood dust off his sweatpants. Chloe swung the door open, and there sto
254. Who Is Lila?
At exactly 6:00 a.m., Lila’s alarm buzzed — a soft chime that hardly matched its consequence. She shut it off without opening her eyes, exhaled through her nose, and laid still for one minute more. Not out of laziness, but out of calculation.She had a ritual. A controlled way to greet the day.A mug of black coffee. Exactly twelve minutes of stretching. One banana, one hard-boiled egg, one list — handwritten — of that day’s goals. Mondays were for charm. Tuesdays, patience. Wednesdays were reserved for watching.This was a Wednesday.Her apartment was modest but not neglected. A velvet armchair by the window, a bookshelf with spines facing outward in perfect symmetry, and a kitchen that looked barely used. No family photos. No clutter. No warmth, unless you counted the pot of tulips on the sill — planted, tended, but never named.The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.She preferred it that way.After dressing — dark jeans, a clean linen blouse, no fragrance — Lila opened her planner. Sh
253. Innocent Or...?
The scent of simmering herbs met Lila at the door.Inside the cottage, warmth radiated from every corner — a blend of candlelight, worn wood, and laughter echoing from the kitchen. The front hallway was cluttered with little shoes and an abandoned toy train that let out a cheerful whistle when stepped on.“Oops!” Lila laughed, stepping back. “Someone’s train tried to trip me.”“We told him not to leave it there,” Ivy called from the kitchen. “But you know Billy— future engineer, present-day chaos.”Van peeked out from behind a cabinet door, wiping his hands on a towel. “Glad you could make it. Dinner’s almost ready. You’re just in time to stir.”Lila’s face lit up — gently, but bright enough to impress. “My specialty.”The kitchen was full of motion. Ivy chopped carrots with casual precision. Van measured out herbs with more ceremony than the task required, clearly enjoying the excuse to fuss. The twins danced in and out, arguing about whether soup should have noodles or dumplings.Bi
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