The quaint two-story house sat nestled among manicured gardens, its pale blue exterior a stark contrast to the sleek modernity of downtown Hammond.
Inside, Raphael hummed softly to herself as she moved about the kitchen, her delicate hands expertly kneading a ball of dough on the flour-dusted counter.
At 17, Raphael was the picture of youthful grace.
Her long dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, wisps escaping to frame her heart-shaped face.
Flour smudged her cheek, evidence of her culinary endeavors.
"Almost done," she murmured, shaping the dough into small crescents.
The scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled the air, a comforting aroma that reminded her of peaceful afternoons spent baking with her brother.
As she slid the tray of pastries into the oven, the sound of a key turning in the front door made her pause.
Raphael's brow furrowed - she wasn't expecting anyone.
