The Fierce Flame

Bonus

Kids ages:

Veer–20 years
Rias–14 years
Ira–10 years

~• a normal day•~

K I R A Z

Some great philosophers have said that family is the true mantra of happiness in life. There is nothing as precious as family. Yet, ironically, the same family that brings peace can also be the root cause of countless headaches, skyrocketing blood pressure, and the occasional homicidal urge. Honestly, they're the best advertisement for birth control. Choose a condom any day.

"Will you guys keep it down?" I shout from the kitchen, my fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife.

Instead of silence, I hear Ira's voice ring through the house. "Mumma!" A second later, the sound of hurried footsteps follows. "Mumma!"

I sigh, looking up from the chopping board. My gaze collides with a pair of deep brown orbs, wide and glistening with barely contained fury. Her small nose scrunches, her lips holding a scowl, her tiny hands plant themselves firmly on her waist, and she storms inside, her pigtails bouncing with every indignant step.

A smile threatens to curl my lips, but I force it down, stifling it with a well-practiced glare. The ten-year-old standing before me is the perfect blend of Reyansh and me—unfortunately, that includes his temper. Not that I was any better. I liked to believe I had mine under control. Or so I told myself.

And then there was that... that... I stare at my daughter, searching for the right word to describe her, but my mind draws a frustrating blank.

She is the epitome of a stubborn head.

All thanks to her father.

"What happened?" I continue chopping, pretending not to notice the determined little firecracker before me.

"I want to go." She stretched her words.

"And didn't you hear your father?"

She leans against the countertop, bouncing on her feet. "Papa didn't hear me. He's busy on a call." She pauses, testing the waters before switching to full-on dramatics. "Mumma, please," she whines. "It's Sara's birthday. If I don't go, she'll feel bad. And then her whole birthday will be ruined. I can't let that happen. I can't carry that guilt." She clutches her chest for effect. "I promise to be on my best behavior. Please, Mumma."

She blinks up at me.

"Please."

Before I can respond, another voice barges in.

"Mumma, don't listen to her." Rias rolls into the kitchen, quite literally, his skateboard gliding across the tiles.

"Rias, how many times have I told you—no skateboards in the house!" I scowl, pointing the knife at him for emphasis.

"Mumma, chill." He does some ridiculous hand movement, something all those rappers do, before smoothly rolling further inside.

Ira glares at him. "Mumma, don't listen to this monkey—"

She doesn't get to finish because Rias flicks her forehead, grinning like the little menace he is.

"Mumma!" Ira screams, clutching her head so loudly that I swear my eardrums might burst.

It takes her less than a second to retaliate, her palm smacking down on Rias's head with a vengeance. But the boy, already wobbling on his skateboard in an attempt to escape, loses his balance.