⁽ᵇᵉᵍᵃⁿ ʷʳⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ²⁰²¹⁾
"𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠" 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌e.
! WILL PROBABLY BE REWRITING CERTAIN PARTS AFTER PUBLISHED ！
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When the world falls apart, family become...
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♡ 𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘥𝘦 0.1 "Leilani's story" "𝖴𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽：𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌." ♡︎ "empty souls (before the storm)" - by "..." -
The rhythmic hum of cicadas filled the evening air as Leilani Smith stepped onto the porch of her small Georgia home. She brushed her hands off on her jeans, smudging the faint traces of flour from the dinner she'd just finished preparing.
From the yard, she heard the unmistakable sound of her eight-year-old son, Monty, giggling as he chased fireflies.
"Montgomery Dixon Smith," she called teasingly, hands on her hips. "You better not be squashing those bugs."
Monty froze mid-step, his hands cupped tightly around one of the glowing creatures. He turned to her, his wide brown eyes full of mock guilt.
"I'm not squashing 'em! Just... catchin' 'em." He let the firefly go, watching as it blinked its way into the darkening sky.
Leilani smiled, her features softening.
Monty was her whole world. A ball of energy with Merle's sharp jawline but none of his sharp edges.
She loved that about him. She also hated that about him, too.
"Dinner's ready," she said, her voice gentle as she stepped off the porch. "Wash up, okay? I made your favorite—fried chicken and cornbread."
Monty grinned wide. "Yes, ma'am!" He darted past her, leaving a trail of laughter and dusty footprints behind him.
As Leilani watched him disappear into the house, her smile faltered.
The laughter couldn't hide the cracks that had formed in their little family.
Merle hadn't been around in months—longer, really, if you counted the times he'd shown up only to leave again.
She'd stopped trying to explain his absence to Monty, and Monty, in turn, had stopped asking.
Her eyes drifted toward the treeline, where the last rays of sunlight were swallowed by shadows.
She tightened her grip on the railing, her thoughts drifting to the man who should have been here, tossing Monty into the air or teaching him how to whittle sticks into something useful.
But Merle had always been a drifter, untethered by the things most people called home. When he'd left this time, she'd stopped pretending to believe his promises of coming back. She wondered if Monty had, too.
The screen door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts. Monty peeked out, his face scrubbed clean but his hair sticking up in every direction. "You comin', Mama?"
"Yeah, baby, I'm coming."
Inside, the kitchen was warm and inviting, the smell of fried chicken filling every corner.
