Aurora’s POV The kitchen smelled like roasted garlic and thyme, the air heavy with warmth as I set the silverware on the table. Mom had gone all out—roast chicken, potatoes crisped with rosemary, green beans slick with butter and lemon. She always cooked like this when she was nervous, though she’d never admit it. Dad slid into his chair with a groan, undoing his tie after a long day. “If I keel over from stress one day, at least I’ll die happy with mashed potatoes in my mouth.” “Romantic,” Mom said, rolling her eyes as she placed the carving knife on the counter. “Aurora, can you pour the iced tea?” “Sure.” I grabbed the pitcher from the fridge, the coolness biting my fingers, and filled our glasses. The ice clinked in the quiet, and for a second, it was almost too loud. Dinner started with the usual rhythm—Dad telling stories about the warehouse where he worked, Mom asking me about classes. I gave short answers, poking at my beans, trying not to fidget. “So,” Dad said
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2025-08-21 อ่านเพิ่มเติม