The kitchen was filled with the warm, inviting aroma of freshly cooked food as Lysara moved gracefully between the stove and counter. Her complexion were vibrant, her cheeks full and rosy, a stark contrast to the gaunt, skeletal woman who had been rescued five years ago.
Happiness radiated from her, her every movement imbued with a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years.
She stirred the pot one final time, tasting the meal with a small smile of approval. "Perfect," she murmured to herself, placing the spoon back in its designated spot.
Her gaze lingered on the bubbling stew for a moment before she wiped her hands on her apron and stepped away, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor.
---
