Regulus’ eyes crack open when he hears a knock on the door, knowing it’s Mrs. Potter calling them to breakfast. He immediately feels the weight of today settle on his chest. July 13th. One year since Regulus and Sirius ran away to live here.
He should be happy, it should be so exciting to think about how far they’ve come. But instead, he feels horribly anxious already. Today is going to be full of running from that memory, he’s sure of it.
Regardless, he pulls himself out of bed, trudging downstairs and taking his seat at the table. Mr. Potter is already there, sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet. He just glances up at Regulus, smiling but not saying anything.
“Good morning Regulus,” She greets, Regulus barely mumbling his response. She doesn’t press, though, just setting down the plates of food as James comes down the stairs, oddly not trailed by anyone, sitting down across from Regulus.
“Good morning James,” Mrs. Potter greets.
“Morning Mum! Morning Dad!” He brightly replies, “Good morning Reg!”
Regulus looks up and faintly smiles at him, not mustering the effort to say anything. His mind is racing right now, and he really doesn’t have the capacity to pretend everything is alright.
“What’s wrong?” James immediately jumps to ask, Regulus saved by Mrs. Potter cutting in to ask James something.
“James dear, where’s Sirius?” She questions, “Did he not get up?”
James shrugs, “I was going to wait for him but he said to just go, I assumed that meant he’d be down in a minute.”
“I haven’t heard anything from up there, let me just go check,” She says, walking around the table and heading up the stairs. James looks between Regulus and his father a moment.
“Is today something I don’t know? I’m worried, am I missing something?” He questions, eyes settling on his father for the answer.
Mr. Potter looks up at his son, who is looking at him confused, before folding up his newspaper and telling him, “It was a year ago today that, you know,” His sentence awkwardly falls off, James thinking a minute before gasping.
“Oh my God, it is,” He marvels, “That’s why Sirius was up all night… Man, now I feel bad I couldn’t help.”
“Your mother is up there talking to him now, don’t worry yourself too much,” He assures him, James still nervously glancing back up the stairs. Regulus intentionally keeps as still and quiet as he can, knowing that if he just doesn’t stick out at all that maybe James won’t notice him. He hates that he does it, too, because it’s a stupid primal instinct he used to use at Grimmauld all the time.
Luckily, the table stays quiet until Mrs. Potter comes back down the stairs, unsurprisingly not followed by Sirius.
“Sirius said he isn’t feeling up to eating down here today, so you’re free to grab something and start, I’ll make a plate for him,” She tells them, Mr. Potter and James moving to grab their breakfast. Regulus is the exact opposite of hungry, though, so he just sits there quietly. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything, no one will notice.
It works, Mrs. Potter leaving with her plate for Sirius and Mr. Potter and James holding their own, quiet conversation between themselves. However, when Mrs. Potter comes back downstairs and sits next to Regulus, she immediately notices he has nothing on his plate.
“Try and eat a little, dear,” She presses, Regulus suddenly fearful of what she’ll do if he doesn’t eat. He glances up at her, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, immediately putting his gaze back down into his lap.
“It’s alright, dear, I just don’t want you getting sick,” She softly assures him, “If you’re not hungry right now that’s fine, you don’t have to stay at the table.”
He doesn’t believe her, still feeling horribly wrong and guilty for not eating. He looks up to try and gauge her genuineness based on her facial expression, although all he sees is a calm smile.
“Would you rather go into the piano room or up to your room? You don’t have to stay if you’re not hungry,” She tells him again, Regulus giving her the smallest nod. He’s so unreasonably nervous, Mrs. Potter would never trap him like that. But it just feels like she’s going to, like she’s lying to him. She keeps her smiling unwavering, though, “Alright, you’re excused, dear, we can talk after breakfast is over if you’d like.”
He nods, again, getting up from the table and ignoring how he feels the eyes of everyone there stare at him as he goes around the corner and into the piano room. He just needs something to get his mind off of everything else going through it right now. He shuts the door behind himself, sitting at the piano and pulling out the book of pieces he could play with his eyes closed. It’s something to fill the room, something to drown out the vivid sounds of his mother’s screams a year ago today echoing through his head. It’s horrible, and it just makes him want to rip his hair out in frustration.
A year. It’s been 12 months, 365 days of recovery from being in that awful house with his awful parents and their awful treatment of him. He was so excited for this summer, so happy to have such a nice vacation and finally feel like he was getting better. He really thought that those memories faded, that he wouldn’t have moments where he heard her voice just as vivid as he had at home.
What a fucking lie that was. He hasn’t gotten better at all.
It only takes him messing up one note for him to angrily slam his hand on the keys, squeezing his eyes shut and tugging at his hair in frustration. It’s so loud. Despite the dead quiet room, he feels like someone is screaming in his ears, reminding him of everything pathetic he’s done and how he’ll never change from the kid who ran away from home. He hears it so clearly, he feels the remnants of a Crucio curse crawl all over him the moment he stops focusing on the piano. Hands, he feels hands all over him. Pinching his cheek, grabbing his arm, pushing him over. It’s so vivid, so clear that he starts pleading for it to please stop.
He’s pulled out of whatever episode he’s worked himself into when Mrs. Potter’s soft, sweet voice cuts through the memory of his mother’s shrill one.
“Regulus dear, Regulus,” She calls, Regulus dropping his hands and looking back just enough to see her coming up to sit down on the piano bench to his left. He can see the concern in her face, yet she’s still calmly smiling at him. “What’s going on, dear? What were you asking to stop?”
He stares at her a moment, marveling that he said any of that out loud. He didn’t hear himself say it, completely unable to discern at that moment what was a memory and what was real.
“Take your time, I’m right here,” She assures him, “Is it alright if I touch you?”
He nods, letting the calm hand on his shoulder anchor him on what’s real, pushing away the feelings of his mother’s hands. It takes him a couple of minutes to fully ground himself, but he finally musters the words to say, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what happened?” She asked, Regulus nodding. “Describe it to me, I’ll see if I can help.”
“I don’t know, I just- I felt like I was with my mother again,” He admits, “She- She was cursing me, screaming, pushing me down, I don’t know how but I felt it. It wasn’t just a memory, it felt real, I don’t know, it’s stupid.”
“Mmm,” She hums, nodding, “Did I ever tell you what I did when I was a healer?”
Regulus furrows his eyebrows at the odd question but shakes his head, “No.”
“I worked with kids, sometimes your age, sometimes a little younger, who had been victims of some sort of accident or incident where their parents weren’t there to take care of them anymore. Sometimes their parents had passed, sometimes they were taken away from them, but I saw a lot of kids who struggled with the same problem you do,” She tells him, “When you go through something really traumatic, your brain doesn’t like letting it go, it does it to keep you safe. To avoid something like that happening again, it keeps reminding you of it, and anniversaries like this are its favorite time to bring up memories like that. I’ve seen it a million times over, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You’re not stupid for feeling that, for being scared of something that isn’t real because for you it used to be. I know today is going to be hard, you’re going to get frustrated and upset and angry that you keep going back to those memories, but I always want you to remember I’m here to help, alright? If you just need someone to ground you, something to do, whatever, I just want you to ask.”
It takes him a moment to process all that, a lot of the pieces as to why she’s so good at dealing with all his issues clicking into place. No kidding she’d be good at helping him, she’s seen a million kids with problems like his. And, oddly, that makes it a lot better, knowing he’s not crazy for feeling like this.
“Thank you,” He hesitantly replies, looking down into his lap. “I just- Nevermind.”
“Mm-mm, continue,” She presses, Regulus almost not going on but knowing that it’s good for him to get this off his chest.
“I feel like it means I haven’t been making any progress recovering,” He shamefully tells her, “I thought I’d been, you know, getting better at letting it all go, giving up my old habits and stuff. But, I don’t know, it just came back so easily.”
“Recovery isn’t linear, as hard as that is to hear. You’ll have days like this, where things seem to be moving backward, but I don’t think you realize how much you’ve grown in a year that you have yet to go back on,” She says, “Take right now, you’re telling me what’s wrong, you’re listening when I offer help. It takes a lot of work to train yourself to trust someone after not being able to for so long and yet you did it anyway. You’ve worked so hard to make yourself as comfortable as possible and all that hard work isn’t going to waste. It’ll make days like this easier, where you still get to be in a place you know and trust even when you feel like you’re somewhere else.”
He really lets what she said sink in a moment, having completely not realized how wild it would have been to year-ago Regulus that he would be so freely talking to Mrs. Potter right now, letting her sit right next to him in such a weak moment and listen to her coaching. Finally, he nods, although he doesn’t say anything. She’s absolutely right, and there’s nothing really to say to that.
“I’m hoping that means you believe me,” She lightly teases, chuckling. Regulus returns a smile, nodding again. “Good, at least I can get one of the two of you to take the help,” She sort of mumbles the last part, but Regulus didn’t need to hear it to know Sirius is probably ignoring her today.
“How is Sirius?” He asks her, “Moping in bed?”
“Be nice to your brother, this is hard for him too,” She chides. She brings her hand that was in his shoulder back into her lap, “I’m just worried about him, he doesn’t like accepting help very often but I don’t want him to struggle alone when I know he needs help,” She tells Regulus, “You know your brother well, I’m sure you know.”
“Mhm, he’s always been like that,” Regulus nods, “That’s his version of falling into old habits.”
“Yes, you’re completely right,” She affirms, “I think it’s best if he is just left alone for a bit, let him collect himself before he’s ready to talk. In the meantime, though, I was thinking of baking something today, would you like to join me? It’s just something to do, and I always find baking very calming.”
“When?” He asks.
“Whenever you’d like,” She replies, “We can do it now if you’d like, or we don’t have to do it at all, your choice.”
“I wouldn’t mind doing it now,” He hesitantly answers, not knowing if that’s the right way to ask to do that now.
“Of course, I would love to, come on,” She gets up from the bench, Regulus shutting the piano lid and following her out of the room and into the kitchen. He stands a little bit behind her as she pulls out a small black box of notecards, flipping through them. “Hmm,” She hums, looking back at him, “Do you have a preference for what we make?”
Regulus shrugs, “Not really.”
“Hmm, maybe we’ll try macarons, I think we have everything for them,” She comments, looking in one of the cabinets and scanning through the bottles in there, “Mhm, we do, do you want to try making them?”
“Sure,” He shrugs again, “I’ve never had them before.”
“You’ve never had macarons before?” She questions, looking back at him in almost disbelief, Regulus shaking his head. “Well, now we have to make them. I’m surprised, you’re French but have never had them?”
He shakes his head, “I know what they are and I’ve seen them but our parents weren’t too keen on feeding us sweets.”
“I’m glad to give you that first then, they’re delicious, especially the recipe I use,” She tells him, holding up the card that’s in a clear sleeve and visibility very weathered and old, “This recipe has been in my family for generations, it’s the only right way to make macrons.”
“You’re making macrons?” James questions as he comes down the stairs, Regulus looking back at him smiling.
Mrs. Potter chuckles, “Sometimes I think you only hear what you want to.”
“No! I just happened to come down here when you said it!” He counters, walking up beside Regulus, “Are you, though?”
“Mhm, I’m going to show Regulus how to make them,” She says as she starts to take things out, “You’re welcome to come and join us.”
“That sounds fun,” He bounces on his toes, looking over at Regulus and beaming, “Right, Reg?”
Regulus can’t help but smile back, laughing, “Right.”
James laughs too, walking over and jumping up to sit on the counter next to the sink. He looks at Regulus and pats the spot next to him, Regulus looking at him skeptically. He really shouldn’t be sitting on the counter, and his already heightened nervousness today is going to keep him as far out of trouble as possible.
“Come sit, Reg,” James encourages him, Regulus electing to pull out a barstool from the island and sit on that.
“I’ll stick to a stool,” He replies, James just shrugging.
“Alright, if you want the invitation is open,” He says, looking over to his mum, “What flavor are they going to be?”
“Well we only have the things for vanilla and chocolate right now, so I was going to just make a batch of each unless you boys want to get the stuff for another flavor,” She offers. James looks over at Regulus, who unenthusiastically shrugs at the idea. He really doesn’t want to go outside, he really really doesn’t want to leave the house. But he doesn’t want to admit that, and he certainly won’t admit it to James.
“I’d be up to going, I really like the strawberry ones,” James jumps down from the counter much to Regulus’ dismay. “We can go down to the store down the street, it’ll be fun!”
Regulus doesn’t say anything, Mrs. Potter turning around from where she’s gathering ingredients at the counter. All it takes is for him to look at her for her to know he doesn’t want to say yes.
“James, I’ll go with you, dear, grab some things for the filling that we’re missing as well,” She chimes in, “Go get dressed, we’ll go shopping.”
“Oh, ok,” He answers, glancing at Regulus but choosing not to press, just heading off upstairs. Mrs. Potter waits until she hears the door upstairs shut before she starts talking to him.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up, that’s my fault dear, I’m sorry,” She apologizes, “Are you alright if I go out? I know today is stressful as it is, I want to make you as secure as possible and I’m sure me leaving isn’t very helpful.”
He shrugs, halfheartedly responding, “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” She presses, “If you’re not comfortable just tell me, I’ll tell James we’re not going and it’ll be fine.”
“No, it’s fine,” He repeats, although he knows that’s not really true. His anxiety is buzzing at just thinking of her being out of the house, the one person who he knows is going to keep him safe. But he feels horrible telling her she can’t go out, as much as he wants to cling to that security.
She sighs, “Alright, we won’t be long, I promise.” He nods, looking back as James comes down the stairs, notably without the typical smile plastered on his face. Mrs. Potter just smiles, walking over to wrap an arm around him and give him a kiss on the head. It hits Regulus with a pang of jealousy, hating how easily that interaction came to both of them. It doesn’t feel pitiful or forced, like she’s trying to take care of a messed up, sick kid.
He shakes his head to try and snap himself out of it as they head towards the door, knowing that the thought process is just coming from the place of general insecurity today. He waves when James turns around and says goodbye to him before leaving, Regulus feeling every feeling that he’d been holding back crash over him when the door clicks closed and locks. He lets his first instinct carry him upstairs, into his brother’s room, where he finds him nothing more than a lump on the bed. Sirius looks up at him with tired, almost dead eyes.
“Hey,” Sirius practically mumbles, sitting up the tiniest bit so Regulus can at least see the rest of his face, “Who left?”
“Mrs. Potter and James, to the store,” Regulus tells him, hiding his hands behind his back so Sirius doesn’t see them anxiously shaking.
“Ah,” He hums, “Well, what do you want?”
“To check in on you, make sure you’re alright,” Regulus partially lies.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” He defensively shoots back, “You don’t need to fucking check in on me.”
Regulus bites back an angered reply, absolutely not in the mood to hear it from him.
Sirius takes a deep breath, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
Regulus doesn’t reply, eyes cast down to his feet.
“How are you?” Sirius softly asks.
“Fine,” Regulus curtly replies, looking up at his brother, “You certainly don’t care.”
“I do, I do, I’m sorry I didn’t check on you before this,” Sirius apologizes, Regulus not relenting his annoyed stare at his brother, whose tone is only partially genuine. “Really, I’m sorry.”
“I heard you were ignoring Mrs. Potter too,” Regulus quips back.
“Oh my God,” Sirius groans, “Get the fuck out if you’re going to act like that.”
“I’m just saying that maybe you should stop being so rude on instinct, not everyone is coming in here to kill you,” Regulus argues, Sirius sitting completely up.
“Well hell does it fucking feel like it Reg, get out, I don’t want you in here,” Sirius demands, Regulus pushing back down tears at the kind of argument they haven’t had in almost a year. He hates himself for coming up here knowing that the two of them are going to be a horrible pairing when they’re both going through the same thing. Regulus doesn’t say anything else, just turning around and leaving, slamming the door when he does. He goes back into his room, shutting himself in and climbing under the covers, curling himself into a little ball as he starts to cry.
It’s so pitiful, hiding from the world under a blanket as if that’s going to save him. It’s what he did when he lived at Grimmauld when he was little, not what he should be doing at almost 16 years old. The feeling from before in the piano rooms creeps back in, where he starts to feel a hand grabbing him through the blanket, hear his mother screaming at him for crying and hiding like a baby, smell the almost nauseating potion she’s chasing him with and taste the little she got on his tongue. It’s a different memory from before, but it’s still so real.
He has no idea how long he lives in that waking nightmare before he hears a knock on the door, something that rings alarm bells in his head as not his mother. Andromeda, his first instinct tells him, the only person who ever knocked on his door when he was young. But when he sticks his head out of the top of the covers he sees Mrs. Potter standing in the doorway, her expression lined with guilt.
“Regulus,” She cautiously says, shutting the door behind her as she moves into the room, “You’re alright dear, look at where you are.”
He listens, looking around to the oddly calming sight of his slightly messy room. It coaxes him out of the blanket a bit more, at least so he can see her sit down on the bed in front of him.
“Are you alright, dear? Did something happen while I was gone?” She questions, Regulus sitting upright as he shakes his head. “Are you sure?”
He goes to tell her, he wants to tell her how he and Sirius got into an argument and it just triggered something in him that sent him in here hiding, but he can’t. He opens his mouth and lets out nothing more than a discarded breath. There’s a moment where he hears his mother again, screaming about how much of a baby he’s acting like not responding to her. Mrs. Potter cuts off the memory before it can last any longer.
“Is it alright if I touch you?” She asks, Regulus nodding. She puts a hand on his knee through the covers, lightly rubbing back and forth and giving him a point in reality to anchor on. “I’m sorry I went out, I know you didn’t want me to and I shouldn’t have. I want to make sure you know there’s no shame in asking for help, no shame in asking for what you need even if you think it’s going to take away from something else. We could have gotten by without going, James would have been a little disappointed but he would have gotten over it. Don’t feel pressured to push down what you feel because you’re afraid of how it’ll impact Fleamont or James or me.”
Regulus nods, avoiding keeping eye contact with her. He can’t take that, it’s too overwhelmed as it is, keeping eye contact is not something he has the capability to process on his already overworked brain right now.
“Do you want to wait a bit to bake? Maybe until you feel a bit better?” She asks, Regulus shrugging but knowing he really isn’t in the mood for bake right now. “It’s really no rush, we’ll make them whenever you’re ready. For now, though, do you want me to give you some alone time?”
Regulus vehemently shakes his head, he doesn’t want that at all.
“That’s completely fine too, I’m probably going to just do some knitting, you’re welcome to come sit downstairs with me, we can talk if you’d like but we don’t have to,” She offers, Regulus wiping his eyes and nodding in affirmation. It sounds nice, being close to her without having to say anything. He just needs her presence there, reminding him there’s nothing to be scared of, it’s all so far gone, and he’ll never be back at Grimmauld again.
“Alright, come on, I think you’re almost done with your blanket, aren’t you?” She asks as she gets up, Regulus nodding as he unwraps himself from under the blanket following right behind her as they walk downstairs. He’s normally not one to burst his own personal space bubble but he’s really craving closeness right now, and he knows she won’t deny him it.
They sit down on the couch, Regulus putting himself between the armrest and her, keeping himself from sitting practically attached to Mrs. Potter like he really wants to. She pulls out the knitting stuff from under the coffee table, handing him his knitting needles, the special ones that she gave him when he came home for the summer. They’re his favorite shade of green, and not just borrowed ones from her.
He only gets a few minutes of quiet alone time, listening to her quietly count stitches and the clinking of knitting needles, before the door to the backyard opens and James comes back inside.
“Oh, hi!” He greets, taking his shoes off, “What are you guys doing?”
“Just knitting,” Mrs. Potter replies, “Did you lock the shed?”
“Mhm,” He nods, walking over to sit next to Mrs. Potter on the other side, “Has Sirius come downstairs yet?”
“Mm-mm,” She shakes her head, Regulus looking back to his project but still listening. “I brought him up a little bit to eat but he hasn’t come down here.”
“I should go visit him, I’m worried about him,” James admits.
“You don’t have to, dear, you’re not responsible for him. I know you’ve offered more than enough help, if he doesn’t want to take it don’t stress yourself out trying to make him feel better,” She calmly assures him, “Today is really stressful for him, it’s alright to have bad days.”
James sighs, “I know, I just don’t like seeing him sad.”
“It’s hard, I know dear,” She leans over and gives him a kiss on the head, “But he’ll be better soon, don’t worry yourself too much.”
“Mhm,” He sadly hums, getting up from the couch, “When is Dad coming home?”
“2, so not for a few hours,” She replies.
“Aw, alright, I’ll just go back outside then,” He walks over to the door, turning back and looking at Regulus, who looks up when he feels James’ eyes on him. “Do you want to join me?” James asks.
“Maybe later,” Regulus quietly answers, not really wanting to go out today. James just shrugs, putting back on his shoes and heading outside again. Regulus sinks a little bit on the couch, knowing that he’s just ruining James’ day even more by not wanting to do anything. It makes him feel horrible, deepening the already sinking feeling in his chest.
He gets so lost in thought, not realizing he stopped knitting until Mrs. Potter very lightly nudges him. “Is something wrong, dear?”
He quickly looks over at her, shaking his head, “No, nothing.”
“I think there’s something bothering you,” She presses, “You don’t have to talk to me about it at all but I want you to remember I’m here for you if you want to.”
He nods, really wanting to just ask her for a hug but for some reason just unable to do it.
She smiles at him, “Do you want a hug, dear?”
He perks up a bit, surprised that she practically read his mind. He was just looking at her, and he doesn’t think she used any kind of magic on him just then.
She chuckles, “You wear a face when you want that, you have been since the day I met you. Come here, dear.”
She opens her arms, Regulus immediately burying himself in her arms, letting them wrap closely around him, protecting him from everything else he can’t control. He swears that she uses magic on him because there’s only one other person who could ever make him feel so safe. He doesn’t want to let go, and he doesn’t.
“You know, I’m so proud of you, dear, you’ve been doing so well today. It’s a lot to handle, I know, but you’ve been doing such a good job reaching out for help,” She quietly tells, “You’ve come so far from a year ago, every time something gets difficult I’m always impressed at how well you handle it.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head, Regulus pulling himself a little closer. It’s so warming, filling him to the brim with so much love that it starts to make him feel comfortable, something that’s been so foreign to him today.
He’s almost upset when she pulls away from him when the door opens, Regulus looking over to see Mr. Potter coming inside.
“You’re home early,” She comments, “I thought you were coming home at two.”
“I was coming home in two hours, not at two,” He corrects her, chuckling and walking over to give her a kiss. He also ruffles Regulus’ hair, “How are you doing, kid?”
“Alright,” He shrugs, Mr. Potter coming around the couch to sit on the armchair across from it.
“Alright is good enough for me,” He smiles, looking back to Mrs. Potter, “Has Sirius gotten out of bed yet?”
She shakes her head, “If he has I haven’t heard him. I brought up some food around 20 minutes ago or so, maybe less. I haven’t been up there since.”
“Should I go check on him?” Mr. Potter asks, “I’m a little worried about him, I just want to make sure he’s alright.”
“I’d leave him be for now, I don’t want to overwhelm him with questions if he isn’t feeling up to talking,” She recommends, “James, though, I think he needs something to do. He was asking about you before, he’s outside now.”
“I was going to work in the yard today anyway, that works out well,” Mr. Potter gets up from the chair, “I’ll go out and hang out with him, then, hopefully lift his spirits a bit. I could tell he was kind of down even before I left.”
“Mhm, you know James, he feeds off of any energy, good or bad,” Mrs. Potter remarks as Mr. Potter goes to the front door and grabs his shoes, carrying them to the back door and putting them on before heading outside. Mrs. Potter looks back over at Regulus, pausing a moment before asking, “I don’t really feel like knitting, do you want to resume our baking? You don’t have to at all, as I said, no rush.”
Regulus shrugs, “That sounds fine, I’d like that.”
She smiles, “Wonderful, that sounds like a plan, then. If you don’t mind putting the knitting stuff away I’ll take out everything we need.”
Regulus nods, Mrs. Potter getting up and going into the kitchen. Regulus carefully puts everything back in its place in bins under the coffee table, careful with the two unfinished projects he and Mrs. Potter were working on as to not unravel anything. By the time he gets up and goes into the kitchen, she has everything set out on the counter and is already preheating the oven. She looks back at him when he walks in.
“Regulus dear, if there’s one thing I want you to know how to do, it’s how to bake. It’s a very valuable skill,” She tells him, “Have you ever done it before?”
He shakes his head, “Not really, just watched.”
“Good, I get to work with a clean slate,” She jokes, Regulus laughing, “Now come, let me show you how to start.”
Regulus walks up right beside her, attentively listening as she walks him through the steps in the recipe, explaining the terms and phrases and describing how to do everything properly. He even helps out a bit, mixing some ingredients and measuring out things. He savors the praise each time, hoping that this isn’t the only time they ever do this. It’s just like knitting, something she does just with him. It makes him feel so special, even on a horrible day like today.
A year ago he could never have pictured himself in this kitchen, smiling and laughing with a woman he was absolutely terrified of. He knows this last year certainly wasn’t easy, and it might take another year for things to get any easier.
But he’s fine with that, because if last year was the best year of his life, he can’t wait to keep going.