The Twisted Wedding Night
I slid into the seat across from her, and Lily settled beside me, her posture relaxed but still composed.
Alice studied the menu like it was a treasure map, her finger tracing imaginary lines over pancakes, fries, and tiny desserts. I leaned back, taking in the scene—the small, perfect family tableau—and I felt something shift. The weight I carried, the constant tension, wasn’t gone, but it felt… lighter.
“Papa,” Alice said suddenly, looking up at me with wide eyes, “can I get the… uh… the thing with the syrup?”
“You mean pancakes?” I asked, smiling.