Evelyne's life is going down hill. Penniless, pregnant, alone and to top it off, the man who ruined her life thirteen years ago decides to come back to town and live in the house next door and work in the same hospital she's set her roots in for the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆
Once again, the past three weeks I've barely seen Owen. It's like his shifts suddenly changed to days when I am off work. Like he's avoiding me all of a sudden.
Since he's not around, he can't get mad at me for raiding his closet in search for comfortable clothes.
I haven't grown much in two weeks but my senses have. The four pairs of clothes I have, including my pyjama set make me want to set my skin on fire.
They just feel tight, I don't know if it's because my chest has doubled in size or what but holy god is it uncomfortable.
I grab one of his grey T-shirts that fit him like a glove but on me could be classed as a poncho and a brand new pair of boxer briefs that he hasn't even worn yet.
This was genuinely my last resort, I tried everything but nothing worked, I still felt uncomfortable.
I quickly pull on the clothes I've stolen and once I do I sigh in relief.
Nothing feels tight, the material isn't irritating and I can't lie, the woodsy scent is one I want to live in for the rest of my life.
I was right about the shirt, it's a poncho on me, it's loose and it flows around me instead of like my other shirts where the whole idea of them is to be tight.
Would it be wrong to just take half of his clothes? Because this is the most comfortable I've been in weeks.
My stomach lets out a loud growl and I sigh. I need cookies. Or an apple pie.
Now, I might not be able to cook a meal but if Mrs Adams and my Mom taught me anything, it's how to bake.
I jog down the stairs, the shirt I'm wearing flowing as I do and I'm so grateful for it because if I had to wear my own clothes for five more seconds, I may have burst out into tears.
When I scan through the kitchen I find everything I need for my moms apple cinnamon cookies and i thank god other wise I would have just had to make an apple pie or cookies but now I get the best of both worlds.
I turn on the oven and quickly wash my hands before pulling our everything I need. Making the dough is easy, I just mix the flour, oats, baking soda and a pinch of salt, placing it too one side and the i whisk the butter, applesauce, brown and white sugar together before I pour it into the dry mixture, adding an egg and vanilla extract and oh lord does it smell good already.
I set it to one side and begin cutting up the Granny Smith apples Owen got for after his run, into tiny pieces. I dip a few of the pieces in a bowl of cinnamon until they're fully coated and leave some of them without any at all before slowly folding them into the dough I already made.
Taking a tea spoon, since Owen has all of these fancy kitchen gadgets but for some reasons doesn't have a fucking table spoon, I begin scooping it onto the tray I already lined with parchment paper.
