Devotion After Dark

CHAPTER TWO

The afternoon slipped quietly into evening without Solenne noticing. Lunch had stretched longer than she expected. Her grandmother had filled the table with enough food for twice as many people, pushing another serving of rice toward Solenne whenever she thought her plate looked too empty.

“Eat.”

“I'm eating, Lola.”

The seventy-year-old grandma raised her eyebrows. “You've only had one piece of chicken.”

“I had vegetables too.”

“Vegetables don't count.”

Solenne had laughed, but her grandmother had already placed another piece of chicken onto her plate.

After lunch came coffee. They sat together on the veranda, her grandmother in her usual wooden chair and Solenne on the old bench beside her. The afternoon breeze carried the smell of damp soil and leaves through the yard. She wrapped both hands around her cup, letting the warmth seep into her fingers while her grandmother talked about the neighbors, the weather, and several family stories she had apparently heard at least three times before.

Then, not long after coffee, her grandmother appeared in the kitchen with another plate of food.

Solenne stared at the plate her grandmother had just placed in front of her. “Lola.”

Her grandmother, apparently unconcerned by the look on Solenne's face, pulled the chair across from her and sat down as though nothing unusual had happened.

“What?”

Solenne slowly lowered her spoon. “We just ate.”

“That was lunch.” Her grandmother reached for her glass of water and took a calm sip.

Solenne blinked as she looked down at the plate again. “And this?”

Her grandmother followed her gaze toward the plate. “Food.”

Solenne looked at the clock hanging above the kitchen doorway. The hands pointed to four in the afternoon.

“It's barely four.” She pointed at the clock.

“Exactly.” The answer came so quickly that Solenne stared at her. She glanced from the clock to her grandmother. Then back to the plate.

“So, this isn't dinner.”

Her grandmother shook her head. “Of course not.”

Solenne raised an eyebrow. Her grandmother calmly adjusted the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing down a small wrinkle with the palm of her hand.

“Dinner is still hours away.”

Solenne looked at the plate once more. Her eyes moved slowly from one side of it to the other. There was rice, still warm enough for a faint curl of steam to rise from it. A piece of chicken sat beside it, coated in sauce that glistened beneath the kitchen light. There were vegetables tucked neatly along the edge, along with another small serving that her grandmother had apparently decided she might need later.

Her gaze traveled from the plate to the rest of the table. Then to the kitchen. Then back to the plate. There was enough food sitting in front of her to make her wonder whether her grandmother had secretly invited six other people and simply forgotten to tell her.

She slowly picked up her spoon. A resigned sigh escaped her as she scooped a little rice onto it.

“You're going to make me gain ten pounds.”

Her grandmother's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. She leaned back slightly in her chair, folding her arms comfortably across her chest as though Solenne had just confirmed something she already knew.

“Then you'll finally have something to complain about besides being unemployed.”

Solenne's hand stopped. Her mouth fell open. The spoon remained suspended uselessly above her plate, a small mound of rice balanced on it.

“Lola.”

Her grandmother held her granddaughter’s gaze for half a second. Then she broke. A laugh burst from her, and she quickly took one hand over her mouth. Her shoulders began to shake as she tried—and failed—to contain herself.

Solenne stared at her. Her eyebrows drew together. She looked genuinely offended for a few seconds. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. She pressed her lips together, trying to fight it. Well, it didn't work. As a quiet laugh escaped. She shook her head and finally lowered the spoon to her mouth.

“You're impossible.”

Her grandmother dropped her hand from her mouth and smiled. “I know.”

Her granddaughter just rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. The grandmother leaned farther back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Solenne took another bite. The quiet clinking of her spoon against the plate filled the kitchen. By the time she finished eating, the sunlight outside had begun to change.

The harsh brightness of the afternoon had softened into a warm, golden glow. Sunlight slipped through the kitchen windows at an angle, stretching in long strips across the tiled floor. It caught along the edges of the wooden table and illuminated the glass jars arranged neatly across the counter.

She finally set her spoon down. She pushed her chair backward, the legs making a faint scrape against the floor. Then she reached for her empty plate. Her grandmother watched her from across the table.

“Leave it.”

Solenne looked over her shoulder. “I can wash my own plate.”

“You just arrived.” Her grandmother’s voice came from behind her, calm but firm.

Solenne paused with one hand still resting on the edge of the table. She glanced over her shoulder, then slowly turned her head toward her grandmother.

“And?”

Her grandmother lifted both eyebrows. The look alone was enough to make Solenne straighten slightly. “You should be resting.”

Solenne turned fully toward her, carefully balancing the plate between both hands. Her fingers curled beneath its edges as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not an invalid, Lola.”

Her grandmother said nothing. She simply looked at her. Her eyes moved from Solenne’s face, down to the plate in her hands, then back up again. It was a long, unimpressed look. The young adult held her gaze and neither of them moved.

For a few seconds, the kitchen fell completely quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Solenne's expression remained serious. Then one corner of her mouth twitched as her eyes softened. Slowly, her lips curved into an innocent smile.

Her grandmother continued staring at her as Solenne's smile widened just a little. She turned away before her grandmother could say anything.

At the sink, Solenne set the plate down and turned on the faucet. Water rushed against the ceramic as she picked it up again, running her fingers across the surface while she washed away the remaining sauce and grains of rice. She rubbed the spoon between her fingers, rinsed it, and placed it carefully on the drying rack beside the plate.

The water continued running for another second. Solenne reached forward and turned off the faucet. The sudden quiet made the kitchen feel even more peaceful. She reached for the small towel hanging beside the sink and slowly dried her hands, rubbing her palms together before wiping each finger. When she finished, she folded the towel loosely and returned it to its place.

Her gaze drifted toward the staircase. “I'll unpack now.”

Her grandmother nodded from the table. “Your room should be ready.”

Solenne's face softened. The corners of her mouth slowly relaxed, and the playful spark in her eyes gave way to something warmer. A small smile appeared. “Thank you.”

The words came quietly, almost softer than she intended.

She lowered her gaze once more, briefly looking down at the last plate in her hands before carefully placing it back where she had found it. Her fingertips lingered against its smooth edges for another second, gently pushing it into place between the other plates. Then she straightened and glanced toward the chair beside the doorway. She picked up her backpack from the chair beside the doorway and slipped one strap over her shoulder and carry the two suitcases.

The fabric shifted against her shirt as she pulled the strap higher, adjusting it until it rested comfortably against her shoulder. The other end of the bag swung lightly behind her as she turned toward the door. The bag settled against her back before stepping toward the hallway.

Her grandmother watched her as she walked toward the staircase. Solenne took a few steps down the hallway. Her fingers brushed lightly against the wall as she passed, her eyes wandering over the familiar corridor. The afternoon light coming through the windows stretched across the floor in pale rectangles, and the quiet creaking of the old house followed each movement.

At the top of the staircase, she continue walking until her figure gradually disappearing from view. The sound of her footsteps echoed softly against the wooden staircase before becoming quieter as she disappeared down the hallway.

It doesn’t take her too long to find her old bedroom with a few steps and she was faced with a freshly painted door with the name in small plaque etched on it.

Sol’s Castle.

With a soft expression, she turned the doorknob, the familiar scent of old wood and clean linen drifted toward her, bringing back memories she hadn't thought about in years.

The walls were still painted pale blue. The color had softened over the years, no longer as bright as she remembered it being when she was a child. When afternoon sunlight slipped through the window and rested against the walls, giving the room a warm, almost golden appearance. There were small imperfections in the paint now—tiny cracks near the corners and places where the surface had become uneven—but somehow, those imperfections made the room feel more familiar rather than less.

The bookshelf in the corner held several children's books she had forgotten existed. Solenne moved toward it and crouched in front of the shelves. Dust had gathered along the upper edges, though the books themselves were surprisingly well-kept. Some had bright covers that had faded with age, while others had bent corners and pages that had turned slightly yellow.

She slowly ran her fingers along the spines. There were fairy tales. Picture books. Old story collections, and a few books she remembered loving so much that she had insisted on hearing the same stories repeatedly.

Her eyes moved from one title to another until something familiar caught her attention. She pulled one out. The cover was faded. The colors had once been much brighter, but years of sunlight had washed them into softer shades. The edges of the cover were slightly worn, and there was a small crease running down one corner. A princess stood beneath a moonlit tree, staring toward a dark forest.

Solenne stared at the illustration for a few seconds. She remembered this one. She remembered sitting on this very floor when she was little, holding the book in her lap while her grandmother read the story aloud. She remembered being fascinated by the dark forest in the illustration, even though it had frightened her at the same time.

Back then, she had always wondered what was hiding between the trees. She turned the book slightly in her hands, looking at the familiar cover as if expecting the picture to move.

Solenne smiled. “Still here.”

Her voice sounded softer than she expected. For some reason, saying those two words made the room feel warmer.

It was strange to stand in the same place after so many years and realize that the room had changed so little while she had changed almost completely. Everything seemed slightly smaller than she remembered, but the arrangement remained almost exactly the same. The bed was still pushed against the wall. The little desk was still beside the window. Even the curtains looked familiar, though the fabric had faded with age.

For a moment, Solenne felt as if she were standing inside a memory room rather than a bedroom.