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Night had already settled in when Amanda approached Lynn’s house, slipping quietly through the door. She slid inside, closing it behind her with careful caution, as though the faintest sound might echo like an explosion. The house welcomed her with a comforting stillness. The television screen remained dark, the only source of light coming from the kitchen, where a soft orange glow cast gentle shadows across the cream-colored wallpaper. Yet the silence was not absolute. The bubbling of a pot on the stove and a faint rustling on the counter invaded the air like intruders. The scent of garlic sizzling in olive oil drifted all the way to the street outside, mingling with the sharp perfume of fresh herbs.
On the countertop, Corbett dangled her tiny feet in the air, perched on one of the tall wooden stools, wholly engrossed in her ambitious mission of drawing with bright, waxy crayons. With fierce determination etched across her face, she bent low over the blank sheet of paper, her tongue peeking out between her teeth as if each stroke held the gravity of life or death.
With her back turned, Lynn stirred the bubbling pot with a rhythm that seemed almost subconscious, a soft hum escaping her lips to meld with the kitchen’s atmosphere. The tune was elusive to Amanda at first, yet it danced on the edge of her memory, familiar yet just out of reach. Lynn's dark hair, woven into a simple braid, cascaded down her back like a stroke of rich charcoal against the soft backdrop of the kitchen. The warm brown tones of her skin, illuminated by the soft glow of the orange light above, shimmered as if it were molten gold, radiant amid the everyday routine.
Amanda stood there, captivated, as if time itself had come to a standstill, her heart constricting painfully within her chest. It wasn’t fear that held her still; it wasn’t mere nerves, either. A deeper, more primal sensation coursed through her, straining her muscles taut like piano wires stretched to their limit: an instinctual, almost feral yearning to remain in this moment, to anchor herself in this sacred space, to grasp it tightly and never let it slip away again.
She wanted to stay.
She wanted to care.
She wanted to hold them both in her arms and never let go.
It was suffocating, like a wave that rises without a shore to break upon, consuming everything in its path. Amanda felt it rush through her, heating her bones and aching deep inside. She looked at Lynn and knew, even if she couldn’t say it aloud, even if she had never felt anything like it before, that this was love. A love so immense it seemed almost wrong because Amanda had never wanted anything so much in her life. Never.
And in that moment, bathed in warm light and the smell of spices, between the fractured silence of humming and the colourful scrawls of crayon, Amanda thought - not for the first time - that she could die for this. For them.
It was Corbett who first noticed her. At the sight of Amanda, her eyes lit up. She dropped the crayon on the counter with a faint clatter, her mouth splitting into a wide grin before she even moved toward Amanda. Lynn, still absorbed in whatever was on the stove, didn’t yet realise that her daughter’s glowing gaze had fixed on the figure at the doorway.
“Mandy!” she exclaimed with a burst of excitement that only a child could summon in such purity.
Lynn startled at the sound and raised her head. Surprise flickered in her brown eyes, quickly replacing her fright.
“Amanda? I'm surprised… You didn’t call or anything.”
Amanda stood there in silence, as though she were contemplating the place. Contemplating them. A strange rush swept through her, clenching her chest, as though this simple scene carried the weight of something unreachable.
“Are you okay?” Lynn asked, a trace of tension creeping into her voice.
Amanda swallowed hard, her throat raw as if filled with splinters. Lynn’s question pierced through her, but the answer came slowly, trapped beneath the warm glow spilling from the kitchen. She wanted to say something - anything - but the words refused to form. Her fingers moved almost instinctively, brushing along the doorframe, as if anchoring themselves to something tangible.
“Amanda, what is it?” Lynn’s voice now carried the beginnings of worry, bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to break free. The tension in her tone simmered as much as the sauce on the stove.
Amanda drew in a deep breath, wrestling with the knot rising in her throat. For a moment, she thought she couldn’t do it - that the words had no way out. But then her eyes lifted, crossing the glow until they met Lynn’s. There was something there, a mixture of terror and courage, like standing at the edge of a cliff and being ready to leap.
“I… I…” Her voice rasped, cracked, as though it hadn’t been used in years. Lynn furrowed her brows, clutching the dish towel tighter in her hands. The motion made Amanda tremble.
She looked at Corbett, now sensing the tension in the room, her wide eyes fixed on Amanda. For one fleeting moment, Amanda felt her chest constrict even more, as if that tiny being had just stitched the last missing piece into her heart. This was it. This was why she was here.
“I’ve always felt like… my life was an unanswered question. Just a...string of days and nights waiting for something to happen, but… I didn’t know what.”
Lynn’s brow tightened further. She twisted the towel so hard her knuckles turned white. Her chest rose and fell in measured breaths, each one on the verge of breaking.
“Mandy…”
Corbett’s eyes darted back and forth between them, confused.
Amanda stepped forward, slow, as if afraid to shatter something sacred. Her heartbeat thundered so loud she could barely hear her own words.
“Lynn, wherever I go, I see you…” Her gaze shifted to the child. “And Corbett… with me.”
Her eyes lifted back to Lynn’s, steady this time.
“You are what makes me feel...real.”
Lynn’s throat tightened. She swallowed hard, but it did no good; her eyes glistened before she even realised it. The kitchen light caught the shimmer, making it impossible to hide.
“I want… to be woken up in the middle of the night by your pager going off. And… and to keep helping Corbett with her homework. And I never, ever want to miss a pizza night.”
A soft laugh slipped from Lynn, already tangled with the tears spilling down her face.
“And that’s how I know I want to marry you. Because something as simple as pizza night with you is the highlight of my week.”
As soon as Amanda's words tumbled from her lips, Lynn's hand sprang up to cover her mouth, stifling a sob that escaped as a choked whimper, each sound trembling with raw emotion. Amanda's eyes darted to Corbett, a mix of concern and uncertainty swirling in her gaze as the air thickened with tension.
“But not without her.”
Amanda knelt slowly, her knees brushing the cool tiles until her eyes were level with the girl’s. Corbett blinked at her, crayons smudging her fingertips.
“Corby… you’re my family. And I'm gonna hang onto you for dear life, if you’ll let me.” She looked back at Lynn. “Please… say yes.”
Lynn could hardly speak. She sniffled, drew a shaky breath, but her voice came out broken, split apart by the torrent streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her daughter, seeking an answer, and found the girl nodding fiercely.
Laughter tangled with sobs as Lynn raised trembling hands, wiping her wet face, before throwing herself into Amanda’s arms.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!” The words spilt forth in a rush, filled with unrestrained joy, before she wrapped her arms tightly around Amanda, as if the very fabric of her existence had culminated in this electrifying moment. Amanda could taste the salt of Lynn's tears, mingling with her own, and she realised with a profound sense of clarity that, for the first time, fear had no hold on her. Their lips collided with a fervour that felt almost primal, an urgent desperation that suggested their separation would shatter the very foundations of their world. When they finally pulled away, gasping for air, Lynn clung to Amanda with an intensity that conveyed the weight of her love, as if Amanda were the whole universe encapsulated in a heartbeat. Lynn’s laughter erupted, unrestrained, blending with the tears that sparkled like pearls on her cheeks. Corbett, radiant with glee, leapt from her stool, dashing over to envelop them in her tiny arms, threading her way into their embrace. Amanda lifted her with ease, feeling the warmth and weight of the child in her arms, and together with Lynn, they planted soft kisses on each side of Corbett's cherubic face. In that sunlit kitchen, where the tantalising aroma of spices lingered in the air, and the golden light washed over them like a warm embrace, Amanda felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. It was here, in this sanctuary of love and laughter, that she finally understood the meaning of home.