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The darkness receded. Beltia opened her eyes and blinked in confusion. Where…?
She was seated in the kitchen. She was tending a bubbling pot of thick soup over the hearth, dressed like an ordinary housewife.
"Ah…" She remembered now. This was her home, and now was dinnertime. Across from her, a small girl pulled out a chair at the table and scribbled with a pen.
Right. Lapicel was practicing her letters.
Beltia felt a warm pride swell in her chest. Her daughter’s handwriting had improved. The lines were still crooked, the characters a little messy, but they were clear enough to read now.
Unlike me, who never seems to get any better at cooking.
She ladled out a bit of soup and gave it a taste, then tilted her head. It was bland.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like dinner's a bit of a disaster again," she said.
"Mom!" The girl looked up, scrunching her brows in a cute scowl. "I work so hard practicing every day! You need to put in some effort too and make our food tasty! Lunch was awful, and now dinner’s gonna be too?"
Well, would you listen to this kid?
Beltia burst into laughter. Truly, children were impossible to predict. "You little rascal, mouthing off to your mom like that!"
And so the day...
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