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SEVEN | SUNFLOWERS

“Hey, Cals, I’m in here,” Harper called. Steam pooled out of the open kitchen door, blasting heat and the smell of rosemary and butternut squash through to the hallway. It was a warm and comforting scent, hearty soup and freshly baked bread, and I felt the tension in my shoulders drop. I was home.

“Hi,” I shouted back, shrugging off my coat and hanging it up next to his on the hook, black faux-leather next to a worn corduroy jacket with a sherpa lining. It felt so wonderfully ordinary, to come home to a hot meal after a day at work.

“How was your day?” He yelled, over the sound of running water and something bubbling on the stove. I unlaced my converse and toed them off in the hallway, kicking them to the side of the doormat, and slipped through the house into the kitchen. 

“It’s just improved drastically,” I grinned, shutting the door behind me, wary and w

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