Fragments of Us

Chapter Twenty: Meal II

The smell of butter and vanilla filled the kitchen as Lila stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand. Milo leaned against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

   “You’ve got the heat too high,” he pointed out, watching the edges of one pancake darken faster than the middle.

Lila shot him a glare. “Are you cooking, or am I?”

   “I’m just saying,” Milo replied, raising his hands in mock surrender.

   “Good, then say less.” She flipped the pancake onto a plate with a triumphant smirk and handed it to their father, who had just wandered into the kitchen.

Richard took the plate, eyeing the pancake. “Looks good. Smells even better.” He grabbed the syrup and poured a modest amount over the top.

   “Better than Milo’s, right?” Lila asked, grinning as she went back to the stove.

   “Hey,” Milo protested, “I made breakfast yesterday!”

   “And it was decent,” Richard replied with a teasing glint in his eye, “but you’ve got some competition now.”

   “Thank you, Dad,” Lila said dramatically, as if accepting an award. “At least someone appreciates my talents.”

Milo shook his head, sipping his coffee. “You’re laying it on thick today.”

Lila laughed, flipping another pancake with flair. “I’ve gotta balance out all the grief you give me.”

Richard cut into his pancake, taking a bite. He nodded approvingly. “Not bad, kid. Though your mom used to make them fluffier.”

Lila rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t falter. “Of course, she did. Mom was practically a wizard in the kitchen. I’m just mortal.”

Milo chuckled softly. “She always said her secret was patience. Letting the batter rest before cooking.”

   “Patience isn’t my strong suit,” Lila admitted, flipping another pancake and sliding it onto a plate. She handed it to Milo with a mock bow. “Your Highness.”

   “Finally, some respect,” Milo quipped, sitting at the table with his plate.

Richard took another sip of coffee, his eyes glancing between his kids. “You know, your mom would’ve loved this. Us all in the kitchen together, giving each other a hard time.”

   “She’d probably still tell us to keep it down,” Lila joked, pouring more batter into the pan.

   “Yeah, and then she’d end up laughing with us,” Milo added, his voice soft but warm.

They all chuckled, the memory filling the room with a comforting glow.

Lila turned to the stove again, brushing her hair back from her face. “Alright, who’s ready for seconds?”

Richard raised his hand like a kid in class. “I’ll take another.”

   “Of course you will,” Lila teased, flipping another pancake onto his plate. “You’re the reason I had to make a triple batch.”

   “I’m not complaining,” Richard replied with a grin, digging in.

Milo leaned back in his chair,  Atlas’s message popped up. Milo hadn’t even finished his coffee when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

   “Lunch? My treat. I’ve got some free time before the shop opens.”

Milo stared at the screen. He hadn’t been in the mood for company lately—not after the emotional weight of the cemetery visit. Still, turning Atlas down would invite questions, and questions meant peeling back layers he wasn’t ready to address.