The moment the kitchen was left to just the three of us, Julian turned around with a mischievous glint in his eye—and right then, we knew we were doomed.
"Now to your punishment," he declared, puffing up with pride as he snatched a dish towel like it was a trophy. "Veronica and you get to wash the pots, and I'll handle the plates, you little traitor."
He shot me a smug grin. "Like you really threw me to the wolves and didn't have your old man's back. I thought we were in this together!"
Renae didn't miss a beat. "Like you didn't just win Mom back with that Shakespeare monologue," she said, stacking bowls on the counter and loading a few into the dishwasher. "And Dad, no offense," she added, "but I'm the only one who remembers escaping from your—"
"Renae Zuri Richards!" Anika's voice rang out from the hallway like a thunderclap.
We all froze—especially Renae, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
"I was gonna say bald head! Bald head, Mom!" she blurted, trying to recover.
I burst out laughing. She shot me a death glare, which only made me laugh harder.
"You all really have a death wish," I teased. "Only God knows."
Julian choked on a laugh, pointing at Renae with the sponge. "You are so lucky she didn't hear the first part."
"I think she did," I whispered, backing away slowly.
"Anyway," Renae said, regaining her composure, "as I was saying—Old Man, you're gonna have to face Mom by yourself."
Julian blinked. "Wow."
He sighed, shaking his head. "You know, I used to be respected in this house."
"You also used to have eyebrows," Renae muttered.
"I heard that! And I still do, you punk!" he shouted, lunging toward her with the sponge.
"Guys!" I screamed as Renae yanked me away from the sink, using me as a human shield. I grabbed the sponge in my hand and swirled it like a sword, flinging soap suds across the floor.
Then—thud.
We were down. All three of us, sprawled on the slippery tiles in a heap of chaos.
We shrieked, giggling like mice as we tried to get up, slipping and sliding, using each other for balance.
"Dad," Renae whispered sweetly, finally pulling herself up with the cabinet handle, "so earlier you mentioned togetherness…"
Julian and I scrambled up too, just in time to see her walk over to the cabinet, pull out the mop, and hand it to me. Then, with the grace of a seasoned saboteur, she grabbed a full stack of dirty pots and dumped them into Julian's arms.
"We're definitely in this together."
I looked up from mopping just in time to see Julian's face twist in betrayal as the weight of the pots hit his arms. I nearly lost my balance again from laughing.
"You two are evil," he muttered, glaring at us over the rim of a saucepan.
"We're survivors," Renae said, bumping her hip into mine.
Julian sighed dramatically. "I raised a pair of villains."
"You're welcome," we chimed, our laughter echoing off the kitchen walls.
And somewhere down the hall, Anika's voice floated back to us—calm, terrifying, and unmistakable:
"If I hear one more scream, I swear I will personally scrub your tongues with lemon and vinegar."
We froze. Laughter paused.
Then, in perfect silence, we returned to our stations—scrubbing, rinsing, stacking—like the most obedient little dish elves the world had ever seen.
Suddenly, Anika appeared in the doorway, eyes sharp, spotting the soap splashes I hadn't gotten to yet.
"Julian."
We all froze again.
She stood there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, lips pursed in that terrifyingly calm way that meant danger.
Julian straightened like a soldier. "Yes, dear… Baby, I swear this time it wasn't me. C'mon, why does it always have to be me?"
She rubbed her temple, eyeing our soaked clothes from the earlier fall, and sighed.
"For all the additional gray hairs, I'mma need something," she said, voice low and deadly.
Julian's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "I—I meant… like, a reward. For being so amazing. You know. Like a spa day. Or a foot rub. Anything at all. Just name it. It's yours."
"I'm going to get a drink in the garden house," she exhaled, turning away. "You guys are gonna be the death of me one day," she muttered to herself as she left.
We looked at each other, shoulders shuddering.
Julian blinked. "Did I just… survive again?"
"Nope," Renae said, handing him a dish cloth. "You're just on borrowed time."
I leaned over to Renae, whispering, "She's scary."
Julian nodded solemnly. "She's five-foot-four of divine wrath."
I glanced between them, grinning. "So… garden house after this?"
Renae smirked. "If we survive."
We clinked our dish cloths together like wine glasses.
"Cheers to living another day."
We all burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the kitchen as we got back to work—together, chaotic, and completely ours.
And just like that, the night rolled on—cleaning, side-eyes, and the kind of love that made even dish duty feel like home.
Once we finished, we ran to our rooms, cleaned ourselves up, and met back in the hallway where they guided me to the garden house.
The backyard had transformed into something out of a dream.
The sky was a velvet canvas, scattered with stars blinking softly above the trees. String lights twinkled along the floral archway, winding through pink and white roses that glowed under the moonlight like they'd been dipped in silver. The air was cool and sweet, scented with lavender and the faint trace of dinner still lingering from the kitchen.
We followed the stone path, lit by tiny ground lanterns casting golden halos across the gravel. Each step felt like entering something sacred—soft, quiet, and full of love.
Anika was already there, curled up on the cushioned bench beneath the pergola, wrapped in a blush throw blanket like royalty in repose. Her long hair spilled over her shoulder, catching the light as she sipped from a delicate glass. The vertical garden wall behind her bloomed with color, and the soft gurgle of the nearby fountain made everything feel like a lullaby.
She looked up as we approached, her eyes warm, her voice amused.
"Finally," she said, smiling. "Please tell me my kitchen survived."
We burst out laughing, nodding as we joined her.
"It's intact," Julian said, flopping onto the sofa beside her.
"Barely," Renae added, tossing a pillow at him.
I settled in next to them, the cushions soft beneath me, the night wrapping around us like a hug.
The garden house glowed with quiet magic—roses blooming in the dark, laughter floating through the air, and Anika's presence anchoring it all like a flame.
Julian pulled out his phone, scrolling through playlists while Renae cranked up the boom box, blasting Afrobeats and a mix of other genres that turned the garden house into a full-blown vibe.
We danced and danced—singing, laughing, sipping drinks, letting the night wrap around us like a warm blanket. Anika disappeared for a moment and returned with cake, which we devoured between jokes and games and more dancing. The music pulsed, our voices rose, and for a while, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just us and this joy.
Eventually, our energy began to fade. Julian clapped his hands once, smiling. "Alright, party people. Time to retreat. Beds are calling."
We hugged each other goodnight, still giggling, and headed to our rooms.
I had just curled up under the covers when I heard a soft knock at my door.
"Come in," I called.
Renae slipped inside, her Elmo slippers padding across the floor. Without a word, she climbed into bed beside me, laying on her side, eyes searching mine.
"What's wrong?" I asked gently.
She smiled and wrapped her arms around me. "Nothing. I just… I know we're not biological, but I've got this really good feeling. Like you're gonna be an amazing sister."
My heart fluttered.
"Will you stay?" she asked. "Instead of going to live at the dorm? I really want to have a lot more nights like this."
I nodded slowly, overwhelmed. "This room… everything… it's already been more than enough."
Renae grinned and reached into her pajama pocket, pulling out a necklace.
It was delicate—almost ethereal.
The butterfly pendant shimmered softly in the low light, its gold outline catching every flicker like it had been kissed by stars. The wings were filled with smooth white enamel, symmetrical and graceful, each segment outlined with care,like someone had traced the shape of hope itself.
I gasped, shaking my head. "I can't. Renae, this is—"
"I wasn't asking you, bitch," she said, laughing as she turned me around.
She wore one half of the necklace around her neck, and now she held out the other—its twin, delicate and gleaming, meant for me.
The chain was fine gold, light as air, but the moment she clasped it around my neck, it felt heavy with meaning. Not just jewelry. Not just a gift.
It was a promise.
A bond.
A quiet declaration that no matter how we got here, we were choosing each other now.
I touched the pendant, heart thudding. "I love it."
"I know," she whispered, pulling me into a hug.
For the rest of the night, we talked nonstop—about everything and nothing. About the past, the future, the weird dreams we'd had, and the things we were still afraid to say out loud.
I don't know when we fell asleep.
But we did.
And it was perfect.