Alisha stood in the living room of her childhood home, her heart a whirlpool of emotions. The familiar scent of lemon polish and the faint aroma of baked foods wafted through the air, tugging her into a warm embrace of nostalgia. The house was much as she remembered,walls adorned with family photos.
She glanced down at the bag she had brought, its glossy surface reflecting the light from the chandelier above. Inside were the gifts she had painstakingly chosen for her mother—a soft, cashmere scarf in a deep wine red and a delicate silver customised bracelet, its charms tinkling faintly as she handed it over.
Her mother, Mrs. Beatrice, received the bag with a look of delighted surprise. As she pulled the scarf from its tissue wrapping, her face lit up, her grey eyes sparkling. Her fingers grazed the soft fabric, and then she turned her attention to the bracelet, her smile growing wider as she held it up to the light.
