The warm light from my kitchen cast a soft glow over Athlea as she moved about with surprising grace.
~Hummm..umm..hmm ahmm...
She was humming a tune, her face relaxed yet focused, seemingly lost in her own world as she diced vegetables and stirred the bubbling pot on my stove.
I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the low table, feeling a strange warmth bloom in my chest, watching her cook. Athlea's presence filled my apartment with a soft, flowery scent that felt calming. Her hair looked slightly wet, like she'd taken a shower before coming over, and it shimmered under the light. I hadn't ever imagined a woman, let alone someone like Athlea, cooking in my kitchen.
—As I sat there admiring her, my mind flashed to memories I hadn't thought about in a long time. Back in my old life, I remembered my mother's anger, the way she would throw plates on the table with a cold, bitter expression.
