Lila
The mornings in Silver Glen always began the same way: slow and steady, and a brief self-talk to reassure myself everything was safe.
I opened the shutters before dawn to let in what little light there was, then stoked the hearth until the fire roared back to life.
The cottage was small but cozy, every corner worn in with love. Dried herbs hung in rows from the rafters, the lavender, chamomile, and wild mint soothing in their scent and a reminder of the life I’d rebuilt here.
By the time the villagers began to knock, the twins were already awake.
Auren’s laughter echoed from the next room, followed by the steady thump of Lucien’s small feet chasing her across the floorboards. Their energy was endless and bright as the sunrise, a contrast to the calm I tried to keep around us.
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