The apartment had grown quiet. After bidding Auren a cheerful farewell—with a leftover turkey leg in his hand and a warning not to steal any more cookies from the tin—Luna turned to see Kana stretching her arms with a dramatic yawn.
"I'll handle the cleanup," Luna said, rolling up her sleeves with practiced ease.
Kana's eyes narrowed playfully, and she held Luna's gaze for two lingering seconds. "You know," she drawled, "I might be the only person alive who can make Luna, the rich heiress, do the dishes for me."
Luna scoffed with a grin. "Zip it before I change my mind and dump the rest of the gravy into your laundry hamper."
Kana was already retreating to her room, cackling. "What? What was that? I'm selectively deaf! So I'll assume you'll be doing my laundry too, then."
Luna laughed softly, shaking her head, and got to work. Her movements were swift, deliberate, and oddly soothing—like each scrubbed plate and tucked chair was a way of grounding herself. A rhythm in the quiet. A pattern in the chaos.
It didn't take long. Years of self-sufficiency, of silent routines, had trained her well. Once the last spoon was dry and in its place, Luna stepped onto the small balcony for a moment, letting the city breeze brush against her cheeks before stepping back inside.
She pulled out her phone and called her father.
Emmerich picked up in just two rings. "Luna?"
"Sorry I didn't call earlier. Things ran a little longer," she said softly, curling into the couch, voice low to avoid waking Kana or Mary.
"I figured," Emmerich replied, his tone calm. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah. I'm just… glad I could be here for Kana. And Mary." Luna paused. "They really matter to me, you know?"
"They're lucky to have you," he said sincerely.
Luna snorted faintly, hiding her emotion with levity. "It's the opposite. I'm the lucky one. Honestly… I'm glad I have you too."
A quiet breath. On the other end of the line, Emmerich's voice lowered, almost a whisper. "I'm glad I have you too, Luna."
Silence stretched, but it was comfortable. Warm.
"Get some rest," Emmerich said at last. "You did well today."
"Thanks, Dad. Good night."
"Good night."
Luna ended the call and tucked her phone beside the couch. She grabbed the throw blanket from the nearby cabinet—an old, familiar one that still smelled faintly of lavender and sunshine—and curled up on the cushions.
The hum of the refrigerator, the rustling leaves outside the window, and the distant sound of a passing car lulled her into a gentle memory.
She remembered years ago—before fortunes, before fractured truths—when she and Kana would fall asleep on this very couch, their laughter echoing after watching cartoons too late, Miso still tiny and sprawled over Luna's stomach.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
In the quiet, she didn't feel like Luna the heiress.
Just Luna—daughter, friend, anchor.
Sunlight streamed gently through the curtains, casting a golden hue on the warm wooden floors. In the kitchen, the soft sizzling of butter and eggs danced in harmony with the quiet hum of the stove.
Luna, in an oversized shirt and Kana's checkered apron, moved around the kitchen like a seasoned conductor. Toast popped, omelets folded, and tea steeped—all in a smooth rhythm, as though her hands remembered every drawer and spice rack without a thought.
From the hallway, the soft sound of a bedroom door creaking open echoed—followed by a groggy voice tinged with amusement.
"I swear I just woke up thinking I'd gone back in time," Mary said, padding in with her slippers, thinner now but still glowing with warmth in her smile. "The smell of breakfast… It's just like when you stayed with us that year."
Luna turned with a bright grin. "You mean the golden year when you both spoiled me and let me hijack your kitchen every weekend?"
Mary chuckled and plucked a piece of omelet from the serving plate with nimble fingers. She popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes dramatically. "Heaven."
"I tried to pass on the legacy," Luna said, leaning close. "Tried to teach Kana how to cook—really, I did—but, well… the supermodel's adventurous spirit turns every dish into a culinary gamble."
Mary laughed, shoulders shaking gently. "You mean the chocolate curry incident?"
"Or the popcorn stew," Luna added with a mock shudder.
The two women burst into quiet giggles, the kind laced with old, beloved memories.
Mary, still smiling, wandered toward the sala. Her eyes landed on the neatly folded throw blanket on the couch. Her hand brushed the fabric, and a fond, wistful light passed through her gaze. "Remember how we used to all pile on this couch and scare Kana with ghost movies?"
Luna was already laughing. "Yes! And we'd do that trick where we'd gasp and point behind her—and she'd scream like the building was on fire."
At that exact moment, from the hallway came the familiar croak of a sleep-heavy voice. "Don't you dare eat without me!"
Kana stumbled out in her panda print pajamas, hair wild and eyes half-closed, one slipper on and one missing.
Mary and Luna looked at each other, then cracked up.
"Same old Kana," they said in perfect sync, laughing so hard they leaned on each other for support.
Kana paused, squinting at them suspiciously. "You two are conspiring again, aren't you?"
"We would never," Luna said innocently, sliding the last omelet onto the plate.
"You're both banned from horror movies," Kana grumbled as she made her way to the restroom.
Luna and Mary exchanged a look, lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
As the scent of warm breakfast filled the apartment, and sunlight filtered in with nostalgic ease, the quiet joy of old bonds and enduring love wrapped around the three like a morning embrace—familiar, grounding, and real.
The sun was high now, gently warming the shaded paths around the quaint house as the three women took a slow, peaceful stroll. Mary, arms looped through Kana's and Luna's, was smiling contentedly despite needing to pause every so often to catch her breath.
Luna took the lead slightly, pausing every few steps to point something out.
"Remember that bench?" she said, pointing at a worn wooden seat nestled under a blooming wisteria vine. "You two made me sit there with ice cream to stop me from scrubbing the whole porch."
Kana smirked. "You were cleaning like you had stock in bleach."
Mary laughed, leaning slightly against Luna. "And when the ice cream melted too fast, you blamed us for ruining your only break to vent through cleaning."
Luna rolled her eyes fondly. "I stand by it. That was a sabotage."
As they moved down the path, Luna paused again, brushing her hand along a weathered fence.
"This was where you hung up those DIY wind chimes, right?" she said, looking at Mary. "Made from those colored glass pieces you got from the flea market?"
Mary's eyes lit up. "Yes! You remember that?"
"Of course," Luna replied with a small smile. "It sounded like music every time the wind passed through."
"You really are observant," Kana said, exchanging a look with Mary. "Not just that—you've got one hell of a memory."
Luna shrugged with mock smugness. "Customer service survival skill. You either remember or you get yelled at by a customer for forgetting their cat's favorite brand of tuna."
Both Kana and Mary gave her the most dramatic, pitying looks.
"Oh you poor soul," Mary said.
"May the gods of patience and tips bless you," Kana added solemnly.
Luna snorted. "Don't worry. All that good karma paid off—I'm a bona fide heiress now!"
They burst into laughter, arms clinging tighter to each other.
Mary, once she caught her breath, sighed dreamily. "If we're planning something, I want to go to the beach next."
"The beach?" Luna asked, looking at her with a soft smile. "Absolutely. Before your legs give up on us, huh?"
Mary grinned. "Exactly."
Kana nodded. "We need a full plan. Outfits. Food. Where to go. When to go." She turned to Luna with a sly grin. "You should ask your dad if you have a beach villa somewhere."
Luna raised a brow at her. Kana raised both brows in return, then poked Luna's cheek.
Luna snorted and gave in with a grin. "Fine, I'll ask Dad tomorrow."
Mary clapped her hands, pleased. "If it's near a coral reef, I want to just sit there and listen to the ocean."
"And sip coconut water with umbrellas," Kana added.
Luna mock-grimaced. "As long as none of you expect me to wear a frilly swimsuit."
"We make no promises," the sisters said together.
Blankets out. Popcorn in bowls. Fuzzy socks worn. The living room was transformed into a soft cocoon of comfort.
Kana was curled up on one end, Mary stretched across her beanbag throne with a royal air, and Luna had taken over the floor with a pillow fort.
Halfway into a drama series, Luna pointed at the screen. "That guy's totally lying. His eyes dart every time he speaks—"
"Shhh!" Kana tossed a pillow. "Luna, for the fifth time—stop doing running commentary."
"And no spoilers either!" she warned Mary, who looked far too pleased with herself.
Mary innocently sipped her tea. "I wouldn't dare."
"She would," Luna whispered, earning another pillow.
Laughter bubbled between them again, easy and warm. The world outside could wait—for now, it was just them, the stories on screen, the memories relived, and the moments being made.