Morana awoke to the sensation of the cold, hard floor beneath her. As she opened her eyes, she realized she was lying just outside her own door. The events from the previous night flooded back to her – she had cried herself to sleep right there on the floor. The chill of the surface beneath her served as a stark reminder of her emotional turmoil.r own door. The events from the previous night flooded back to her – she had cried herself to sleep right there on the floor. The chill of the surface beneath her served as a stark reminder of her emotional turmoil.
The sunlight was already streaming in through the gaps in the curtain, serving as a friendly reminder that she had woken up quite late that morning. She stood up, straightened her dress, and then made her way to the kitchen to boil some water for her bath.
Even on days when she had nowhere to go, Morana found solace in dressing up for no apparent reason. After her bath, she put on one of the dresses she finished making the week earlier; a red long dress with black lace over it. She paired it with black gloves and a small pearl necklace. "Beautiful." She smiled at her reflection in the mirror before moving on to her face.
Since she would be working for most of the day, she opted out of applying any makeup aside from a little pink lip coloring. Then she moved on to the final touch, her veil. "All done."
After checking herself in the mirror one last time and spraying a bottle of fragrance over her body, she went straight to the kitchen to sort out the goods she had bought the previous day. "What a lovely sight to behold." Morana beamed at the bags of groceries before her, memories of the spilled milk all forgotten.
Morana wasted no time getting to work, carefully placing each item from the grocery bags into its designated spot in the kitchen cabinets. She took extra care to organize the perishables for easy access. Once that was done, she turned her attention to her collection of dressmaking materials. As she reached for the fabric, scissors, and patterns, a sudden knock at the door interrupted her, causing her to pause and wonder who could be at her door.
As she walked toward the door, Morana was skeptical. "It's probably one of the teenagers." She thought out loud, trying to channel her inner witch to scare them away.
"I warned you kids to never—" She paused, the words hanging over her head as she stared at the person at the other end of the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked the man from the previous night, the one who broke all her glasses of milk.
"I was expecting a warmer reception." The man cheekily smiled.
Morana was shocked to see him there but that shock soon, however, morphed into anger as she spat at him. "You're not welcome here." She glared at him.
Right as she was about to slam the door in his face, the man stuck his leg through just in time and pried it back open. "For someone who rarely receives guests, I expected you to be happier to see me here." He added, making sure to tease and torment her more.
"I'm not happy to see you so please leave." She tried to close the door once more despite the power imbalance between them.
The man effortlessly opened the door once again and stood in front of her, his face serious, all traces of the earlier playfulness gone. "I'm here to apologize for last night." He looked as though he struggled to say the words.
Morana raised a brow of curiosity and crossed her hands above her chest. "Go on." She demanded.
The man clenched his jaw and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for breaking your crate of milk, it was a mistake on my part and I take full responsibility."
"Apology accepted." Morana dismissed him and tried to close the door for the third time but unexpectedly, it didn't budge.
"I brought this..." The man stepped aside to reveal crates of milk stacked up behind him, "as a token of my apology." He stared at her expectantly, waiting for her reply.
Morana stared at the crates in shock for a few seconds. Of all the things she expected to happen that day, this, was not on her list. "Why?" Was the only word she managed to form as she pulled her eyes away from the crates and back to his face. "Why?" She repeated once more.
"I may not look like it but I hate to see people in discomfort, especially if it's my fault."
"It certainly doesn't look like it." Morana sarcastically rolled her eyes as she thought back to last night when she dubbed him a sadistic madman.
"However," The man ignored her sarcasm, "I hope now you'll accept my apology... You didn't deserve to suffer like that."
Morana had an inkling that the suffering he was talking about wasn't just the milk he spilled. "Thank you... truly." She managed to crack a small smile. She still hated him though, just about five percent less than the way she did last night.
The man nodded and moved to carry the crates, "Am I permitted to enter your home?" He asked her, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
"You would like to enter my home?" Morana looked at him in utter disbelief.
"Why not? It's not like you're planning to use me for a ritual... are you?" He tried to act scared but couldn't hide the smirk on his face.
"It just might." Morana too smirked at the thought of the challenge. With a shake of her head, she stepped aside, allowing him room to enter her home. The first visitor she would be having in years.
With a triumphant smile, the man heaved the crates of milk inside as Morana shut the door behind them.