The day began in the kitchen, heat already building as Zenovia worked over the hearth. William and Johannes hovered close, sleeves rolled, far too eager for boys their age. They handed her what she asked for, sometimes what she did not, watching every movement as if cooking were magic rather than routine. Across the house, Maurice focused on a far less pleasant task, patiently potty training Pheodora. The sharp smell of bodily accidents drifted through the air, mingling with warm bread and simmering porridge. Zenovia did not comment. Such was life.
Breakfast was eaten together, bowls scraped clean, the brief calm before responsibility returned.
Morning chores followed, though not everyone rushed to them with enthusiasm. After the cow was milked, Zenovia lingered outside longer than planned. A neighbor passed by, laughter sparked, and soon a friendly water balloon fight broke out. Friendly did not mean painless. One poorly aimed throw landed hard, leaving Zenovia laughing through a wince.
Later in the day, an unexpected guest arrived. New to the area, she came offering greetings, her smile polite but strained. Zenovia heard the ache beneath her words almost immediately. The woman spoke of what she had left behind, of uncertainty, of loss. Zenovia listened. She did not fix anything, but she stayed, and that seemed enough. By the time the woman left, her shoulders were lighter, her voice steadier.
While introductions were made at home, Maurice and the boys were out in the fields, hands deep in the soil, tending what little they had. Azaliya watched nearby, eyes wide, absorbing everything without saying a word. Dimitri noticed the unfamiliar presence earlier and made his way over, curiosity outweighing caution as he introduced himself.
The trader arrived without warning, as he often did. He and Maurice had long since moved past simple business. Seeing Maurice occupied, he meant to slip away unnoticed. That plan failed the moment Azaliya and Pheodora spotted him. They tugged at his sleeves, demanded a story, their eyes too hopeful to refuse. He sat, book in hand, reading aloud while the girls pressed close, utterly absorbed.
There was never a quiet stretch in the household for long. The younger children bounced between affection and conflict, love turning to frustration in the blink of an eye. Roksana, especially, seemed fueled by chaos. She argued, shoved, shouted, testing limits whenever she could. It was always Maurice or Zenovia stepping in, voices firm, patience thinning. More than once, they exchanged a look, both silently wondering where exactly her temperament came from, each careful not to point the finger at themselves.
As the light faded, dinner brought everyone back together. Plates were filled, conversations overlapped, and exhaustion finally settled in. One by one, the children were sent to bed, the house slowly quieting.
When the last door closed, Zenovia and Maurice were left alone at the table, the day behind them, the fire crackling low, sharing a rare moment of stillness before tomorrow would begin again.
If you have read this far, thank you for tuning in to the Everrette's Decades Challenge. Right now not too much is going on but I assure you, it's about to go down! I won't say when but very very soon. I have more time to play recently so stick around to find out what's to come.
