Lying on her bed, Lucy stared blankly at the ceiling as the sun rose through the window, casting bright, sharp rays across the room. Outside, people talked about their daily lives, their conversations and laughter fading away with the breeze. The world beyond her window seemed to slow down, and for a brief moment, everything felt peaceful, in a way that made the morning feel almost sacred. In that stillness, the world felt right.

The calm didn’t last long. Her bedroom door creaked wide open, her mom’s unmistakable way of saying, “Get your ass off that bed, now.”

Lucy groaned as she reluctantly arranged her bedcovers, pushing down the warmth and comfort she would rather stay wrapped in. It was still early by city standards, but in this village, where half the population were farmers already long at work, this was practically mid-morning.

After scrubbing her teeth and taking a quick shower, she put on her school uniform and headed to the dining room. The aroma hit her first, freshly baked pies, creamy potato stew, peas, bread, bright slices of fruit, and steaming tea. One undeniable perk of living with farmers was having fresh farm food on the table every morning.

“Have some more,” her mom said, adding another spoonful of potato stew to her plate. She wore a pale orange sleeveless gown and moccasins, her hair tied neatly into a bun. Her mother, who never cared much for jewelry, wore only her dangly silver earrings. But what truly stood out was her blonde hair, giving her an ethereal look.

People often said Lucy was the exact replica of her mother, but she always thought her mom was far more beautiful…effortlessly so.

Watching her mother eat, taking small bites at a time, Lucy found herself reflecting on happier days, when the house wasn’t so quiet. Back when her father was still around, they would all have breakfast together. Her mother always made sure they ate more than enough, urging them to hurry so they wouldn’t be late. Her father, a teacher at Liberty High School a few miles away, would drop her off at school in the village before heading to work.

Lucy had never seen her parents argue or even have any disagreement. To her, they were the perfect couple.

Waking up to the news of their divorce had shattered her. The shock, the devastation, no words could capture it. Watching her father move out and sitting through meals with an empty chair… He still called, but the phone conversations did little to fill the hollow space he left behind.

But it was her mother who suffered most. Sometimes Lucy passed her room at night and heard her crying softly, as though the grief had swallowed her. Eventually, her mother abandoned the bedroom she once shared with her husband and moved into the guest room. Farming became her therapy, the place where she found comfort. When Lucy once asked what caused the divorce, her mother’s answer was painfully simple, “We stopped loving each other.” She never understood what that meant. How do you just stop loving someone?

But that was then, they had both found a way to move forward. Her mother had regained her spark. Her father remarried and invited Lucy to spend holidays with him in the city, promising all the fun they would have together. But Lucy couldn’t leave her mother, not when she was all her mother had.

Finishing the last of her tea, Lucy stood and carried her plate to the kitchen.

“Good luck on your farm fest, Lucy,” her mother said warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Lucy grabbed her school bag and stepped outside, welcoming the chilled morning air and feeling a surge of confidence within her. Today was going to be a lovely day and she intended to claim the win.

Standing alongside her fellow students, in front of the farm plot given to them for the project, Lucy felt nervous under the judges’ scrutiny. Their garden was filled with fresh vegetables, and birds were flitting about. This was it, the moment of triumph after one month of hard work and dedication.

This was more than a project for Lucy. It was an opportunity to prove herself once again and retain her title as the top student in her class. And yes, for the sweet satisfaction of seeing Beatrice and her crew seething with envy. The wait seemed endless and suffocating.

Finally, when she heard her name called for the first position, Lucy’s heart filled with joy. She had done it, four consecutive wins, a new record. Some, like her mom, believed it was luck; others whispered cheating. But she knew better.

As Lucy stepped forward, her eyes locked onto a familiar yet strange figure. She froze, cold spreading from her heart downward. Her excitement faltered, her steps quivering as she forced herself back in line, the strange woman’s gaze never leaving her. The memory of their last encounter pressed into her mind, sending goosebumps racing over her skin.

She remembered that day vividly, the day she was alone on her mom's farm, walking from one section to another. She let her palms brush gently over each plant, releasing that invisible energy she still didn’t fully understand. She felt the plants’ vitality pulse back at her, each time resonating with her own.

That was the real secret behind her mom’s bountiful harvests. Lucy still didn’t know how she was able to do it, but ever since she had discovered her strange ability, she had used it only to help her mom and herself.

---

“Can I help you?” Lucy asked when she noticed a strange woman standing at the far end of the farm. She didn’t recognize her, not as one of her mom’s friends nor any of the neighbors, and she was certain she had never seen that face before; maybe the woman was lost.

Dropping the debris in her hands, Lucy moved forward cautiously. The sight of the woman’s pale skin, coupled with the weird long white dress she wore, her ocean blue eyes, and red fingers, made Lucy’s stomach tighten.

“What do you want?” Lucy asked, scanning the area for any weapon she could use for defense.

“You are special,” the woman said at last, her voice low and chilling. She reached out, running her cold, red fingers across Lucy’s face as her gaze deepened. “And I’m sure you already know that. When the time is right, I will come back for you. But until then, you must stop using your powers… or else they will come for you.”

With those words, she pushed Lucy backward with unnatural force, knocking her off her feet.

How did this woman know about her powers? It was a secret she had never shared with anyone, not even with her mom. And who were they? Who was coming for her?

These questions got stuck in her throat as the woman vanished like a breath of cold wind.

---

Now, seeing her again brought mixed emotions rushing through Lucy. She was excited that she was finally going to uncover the mystery behind her abilities. But the thought of leaving her mom filled her with unbearable sadness she couldn’t shake.

But a choice had to be made: remain in this quiet village with her questions gnawing at her, or take that difficult step to discover who she truly was… and what she was meant to become.

Denise's mind drifted away as she thought of what awaited her in her new school, when she walked in silence along the narrow path lined with lush flowers on both sides.

Would she be able to make new friends? Memories of her old, lonely school crept in, but at least she had her sister then. Perhaps this could be a fresh start…maybe things would go differently. Brushing her arms against the flowers, she tried to calm her nerves.

She followed Aunt Lilian, passing through corridors lined with classrooms and offices until they reached a door marked ‘REGISTRAR’ in bold letters. Aunt Lilian knocked on the door, and a raspy voice replied, “Come in, please.”

She turned the handle and stepped inside, with Denise following closely.

“ You are welcome, please have a seat,” the registrar said, and gestured to the chair opposite her desk.

The office was small but neat and books were arranged carefully on a shelf to the left, and stacks of files sat in tidy piles on both sides of the desk. A telephone and computer sat on the desk in front of the woman, who wore a black knee-length skirt and a white blouse. She looked to be in her early fifties, Denise guessed.

“Mrs. Lilian, right?” the woman asked, her lips curving into a warm smile. She turned to Denise. “And this is…?”

“Denise Larsson, my niece,” Aunt Lilian replied.

“Okay, I’m so happy to have you join us, Denise. Feel free to come to me whenever you need anything,” she said warmly, donning her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a form, smoothing it with her palm before handing it to Aunt Lilian.

“Please, fill it out correctly, use capital letters when necessary,” she instructed politely.

Reaching into the small candy box at the corner of her desk, she unwrapped one for herself, then held the box toward Denise. “Do you want one, Denise?”

Her eyes roamed Denise’s face longer than necessary, studying her with gentle curiosity as she absorbed every detail.

“No thanks,” Denise declined, earning a disappointed sigh from her aunt, though she barely noticed. She wasn't supposed to be here, she hated it. Every part of this office, the sweet smell of candies, all of it reminded her of what she had lost. Flashbacks pulled her to a time when she was living happily with her parents and sister,unaware of the tragedy that would soon change everything.

—

“Wake up, Agatha ,wake up!” Denise shouted, shaking her sister's shoulders, Agatha had always been a deep sleeper.

“Leave me alone, you little monster,” she mumbled, rolling over.

“Ahhh!” Denise groaned, frustrated, she pressed a pillow over Agatha's face, watching in amusement for a few seconds as she flailed and kicked about. Unfortunately, it was the only way to pull her back to reality.

“Stop it!” Agatha yanked the pillow away, gasping for air. “Is it morning already?” she asked, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Why do we have to get up so early?”

“Because Mom says so,” Denise replied, heading to the bathroom.

“This isn’t fair, we are on summer break, we should be allowed to sleep till noon,” Agatha wailed, her voice muffled through the walls.

Denise rolled her eyes “ mom always insists we have breakfast together.”

Coming out of the bathroom, Denise found Agatha still sprawled on the bed, staring at the white ceiling lost in thoughts. She tiptoed downstairs, sneaking into the kitchen to snag a cookie. But the moment she saw her mom already there with a knowing look, she paused in the doorway.

“Good morning, sweetie those cookies are for breakfast,” her mom said, pointing at the tray of hot, freshly baked cookies on the counter.

Denise helped her mom set the breakfast table. Her dad, already dressed for work, sat in the dining area. When he noticed her, he looked up and smiled.“Good morning, angel.”

She smiled back and took a seat as the three of them gathered for breakfast.

Agatha joined shortly after, her black wavy hair still damp from the shower. Breakfast was simple, white bread, freshly baked chocolate cookies, crisp salad, and two steaming cups of tea and coffee for her parents.

Her mom set a plate of warm, toasted bread with butter and a side of salad in front of her. Denise groaned loudly, poking at the greens with her fork. “Mom, can I have some cookies now, please?” she pleaded, gently pushing the salad away.

“Sure, but only after you finish your salad, sweetie,” Mom replied with a smirk.

Agatha, meanwhile, was fully immersed in savoring hers, eyes closed in appreciation, earning a proud nod from their mother. Unlike Denise, she had always loved salad and wouldn't missed an opportunity to lecture her sister about how nutritious it was.

Denise shot her a side-eye, waiting for the perfect moment to make her move. When her mom stood to pour her dad a cup of coffee, she seized the chance. Dumping her salad onto Agatha’s plate — unbeknownst to Agatha, who was too absorbed in discussing her plans for the day.

They were barely done eating when the home phone rang,and Dad hurried over to answer it. They couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he returned moments later, announcing that he was leaving for work early due to a minor issue at the office.

“Then I’ll have to go with you today, my car is still at the mechanic’s,” Mom said, rushing into the bedroom to grab her bag. “Agatha, clear the table after you two finish eating, okay? And Denise, don’t eat too many cookies. Too much sugar isn’t good for you.”

“Heard you, Mom. Love you,” Denise said as she kissed her cheeks before going out.

“That can’t be a minor issue,” Agatha said in a low voice.

They spent their holiday watching soap operas, playing puzzle games, gardening, and baking cakes or cookies…which they were hopelessly bad at. On some days, Mom would come home with a small stack of books from the library where she worked. “To improve your vocabulary,” she always told them, waving them like gifts she couldn’t wait for them to open.

Other days, Agatha would slip out with her friends, usually bribing Denise with sweets to keep her silent about those little escapes. Nevertheless, school holidays were the best time for the sisters to bond, even with their small acts of mischief.

***

That day, they were busy in the garden, weeding and watering the plants, when a car rolled into the driveway.

“Who is that?” Agatha asked, stepping up behind Denise.

“I have no idea. I’m going to check it out,” Denise replied, taking a few careful steps toward the car for a better view. The window rolled down slowly, but the driver’s head stayed slumped against the steering wheel, unmoving.

“What is he doing?” she whispered, her steps growing more cautious.

The man finally stepped out, and when his face came into view, Denise recognized him, it was her dad’s brother, Uncle Andrew. She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and he lifted her effortlessly, pulling her into a tight embrace

“You’ve grown so big, Denise. No food left for the rest of us, huh?” he joked, though it landed poorly. Maybe because his eyes were red and swollen, or his voice sounded rougher than she remembered.

Agatha approached slowly, her head slightly lowered, her gaze anywhere but his face. She would have run If she had the opportunity.

Denise knew that look, the memories that haunted her sister.

She recalled the incident on her birthday three years ago, the moment that made her see her sister differently.

---

After the party, Denise had been upstairs in the nursery, playing with the other kids. Downstairs, the adults were drinking and talking about the good old days, lost in their own world. But the joy was cut short when Matthew, Uncle Andrew’s son, snatched one of Denise’s presents, a remote-controlled racing car she had just unwrapped.

“Give it back, it’s mine!” Denise cried, reaching for it.

Matthew pushed her to the floor, laughing with the other kids as if it were all a game.

“It’s mine now, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he said, his tone icy.

Denise ran to her room in tears, too frightened to tell anyone. It was supposed to be her special day, yet all she felt was a deep, crushing disappointment.

“Denise?” she heard Agatha calling for her. “Where the hell is my favorite, oops, I mean… my only sister?” Agatha muttered as she scoured the hallway. Then she pushed open their bedroom door and halted when she saw her crying.

Denise scrambled onto the bed, turning her face away. She didn’t want to cause any problems, especially not today.

“What happened?” Agatha asked, her voice turning into a snarl. “Why are you crying?” She sat beside her and pulled her close, wiping her tears with the hem of her shirt.

“It’s nothing,” Denise replied. “I was playing with Miya when I hit my hand… it just hurt a little.” She tried to make the lie sound believable.

Agatha wasn’t buying it. She grabbed Denise’s wrist, examining it carefully.

“There is no bruise,” she said, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “Are you lying to me?”

That question shattered her. Denise couldn’t hold it in anymore, tears burst out of her again.

“Matthew took my racing car,” she admitted. “And he said he’d beat me up if I told anyone.”

Agatha shot to her feet, anger flooding her face. Without another word, she stormed out of the room. Denise followed slowly, dread curling in her stomach.

“Matthew! Matthew!” Agatha’s voice cracked like a whip as she charged into the nursery. “How dare you make my sister cry?” Every word dripped with fury.

Denise couldn’t see anything from the doorway, but the shrill screams, the crash of breaking glass, and children running out with wide, shocked eyes told her it wasn't good.

The adults rushed upstairs, and soon Matthew was being taken to the hospital, blood spilling from his jaw. That night, Agatha was punished severely and grounded for the rest of the year.

—

She could feel the guilt and shame weighing on her sister, given her refusal to apologize for what had happened.

“Come over, kiddo,” Uncle Andrew called out, his voice drained of all its usual warmth.

“I, I’ll go call Dad,” Agatha mumbled, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.

“No!” he yelled, louder than either of them expected. He put Denise down gently and moved closer, taking Agatha’s hands.

“Why don’t you go inside and get your things, and Denise's packed. We are going somewhere.”

Agatha frowned. “I don’t understand. Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you two…”

“Where? And why can’t I call my parents?” Agatha demanded, her face shifting from confusion to suspicion.

Denise stood still, watching everything unfold as if she were a spectral figure. Uncle Andrew moved forward and stood in front of Agatha, then went down on one knee and hugged her tightly as tears slid down his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, her eyes fixed on him.

“What is going on?” But the questions only made him cry harder.

“Your parents…they had an accident,” was all he managed to mutter before he completely broke down.

“ What…? How did this happen? Where…where are they? I want to see them now!” Agatha pulled away from his arms and ran to her sister.

Denise froze as her world lost every breath in it. She felt Agatha tug at her, urging her to move, but her legs didn't respond. She waited for him to get up laughing, one of his dry jokes again, but that never happened.

She didn't hear his next words, or maybe she didn’t want to, but she knew they were heart wrenching. When Agatha rushed into the house, tears streaming down her face as she clutched their family photo tightly to her chest. “No,no,no…”