Her Purpose

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter for support as I watched Mum fuss over the cake mixture. The smell of vanilla and sugar filled the air, but instead of making my mouth water, it just made my stomach churn. I'd been feeling more nauseous than usual lately, and even the thought of food was enough to make me feel ill.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down, love?" Dad asked, hovering nearby with a concerned look on his face. He'd been doing that a lot lately, hovering. As if he thought I might collapse at any moment.

I shook my head, trying to muster up a smile. "I'm fine, Dad. Really. I want to help with the cake."

Mum looked up from her mixing bowl, her forehead creased with worry. "Beth, darling, you don't have to push yourself. We can manage."

I bit back a sigh of frustration. Ever since I'd got out of hospital, Mum had been treating me like I was made of glass. I knew she was just worried, but it was starting to drive me mad. I wasn't dead yet, for goodness' sake.

"I'm not pushing myself," I insisted. "I'm just standing here. Besides, it's Nathan's birthday cake. I want to be involved."

Mum and Dad exchanged one of those looks, the kind that parents think kids can't interpret. But I knew what it meant. They were worried about me, and they didn't know how to handle it.

"Alright," Mum said finally, her voice gentle. "Why don't you read out the next step in the recipe for me?"

I nodded, grateful for something to do, even if it was just reading.

"Um, it says to add the flour gradually, mixing well after each addition."

Mum nodded, reaching for the bag of flour. "Right then. Here we go."

As she started to add the flour, a cloud of white dust rising from the bowl, I heard the thundering of feet on the stairs. A moment later, Meri burst into the kitchen, her face lit up with excitement.

"Is the cake ready yet?" she asked, bouncing on her toes.

I couldn't help but smile at my little sister's enthusiasm. At seven years old, Meri still saw the world as a place full of wonder and possibility. Sometimes I envied that innocence.

"Not yet, sweetheart," Dad said, ruffling her hair. "We've only just started mixing it."

Meri's face fell for a moment, but then she brightened again. "Can I help? Please?"

Mum hesitated, glancing at the mess of flour and eggs on the counter. "Well..."

"She can help me read out the recipe," I suggested quickly. "Come here, Meri. You can be my assistant."

Meri beamed, scrambling over to stand next to me. I put my arm around her shoulders, partly out of affection and partly because I needed the support. The constant fatigue was hitting me hard today, and even standing was becoming an effort.