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The sun continued its journey across the sky, marking the passage of time.
The Vesperian day was coming to an end, but for Kuana and me, it felt like our story was just beginning.
And as I closed my eyes, basking in the warmth and peace of that moment, I dared to hope.
Hope for a future where love, simplicity, and happiness were all we needed.
* * *
The farmhouse kitchen was a lively place, filled with the comforting hum of cooking and the aromas of spices and fresh produce.
Soft yellow lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything, making it all feel cozy and homely.
The walls, a rustic shade of burnt orange, adorned with art crafted by the farmer’s children, gave it a personalized touch.
Elara was a plump, middle-aged woman with a hearty laugh and twinkling eyes that seemed to always be filled with mirth.
Her auburn hair was braided and wrapped into a bun, stray wisps framing her rosy cheeks. She moved about the kitchen with a grace and rhythm that spoke of years of familiarity and routine.
As she chopped a bright blue root vegetable, I approached, curious to learn. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the tuber in front of her.
Elara chuckled. “That’s a Bluvian radish! They’re quite spicy but add a wonderful kick to the stew.”
I helped her with the smaller tasks, peeling and chopping, as we delved into a deep conversation.
My curiosity about the farming life was insatiable.
I quizzed her about everything — how they planted, when they harvested, the seasons of the planet, and even the local pests.
Elara patiently answered all my questions, her tales interspersed with laughter and anecdotes.
She explained how she and her husband came to be on this colony, how they fell in love with the open fields and decided to set down roots here.
Our conversation drifted towards the prospects of owning a farm. “There’s actually a neighboring farm up for sale right now,” Elara remarked, her voice thoughtful. “The old couple that owns it are looking to retire and move to the city. They have no children to pass it on to.”
The very thought that Kuana and I could potentially own a piece of this paradise made my heart race. “Would you… umm…maybe be able to introduce us? I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” I hesitated.
Elara smiled warmly. “Of course, dear! I can talk to them tomorrow and maybe arrange a visit for you both.”
I was overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you so much, Elara,” I whispered, tears forming at the edges of my eyes.
As we continued our cooking, a peculiar smell started to waft through the kitchen.
It was metallic and oddly familiar, a scent that immediately transported me back to the cold, steel walls of Ikmal.
I wrinkled my nose in distaste.
It must have been coming from one of the bubbling pots.
I made a mental note to skip using that herb when I cooked in the future.
The memories of Ikmal were ones I wanted to leave far behind.
The back door slammed, signaling the return of the men.
Elara’s face adopted a mock stern expression. “Those two better not be bringing all that dirt into my kitchen!”
Kuana entered, his face streaked with dirt, a sheepish grin on his face. “Caught,” he laughed, lifting his hands in surrender.
