Tale as old as time | Fillie

Blue Moon

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Two years passed, and days in Castle Wolfbrown barely changed.

It was the usual lifestyle of two people in love— and who had their silly arguments from time to time.

Truth is that Millie and Finn are not a conventional couple; yes, they do what all married people do, like washing the dishes together, fighting about what TV show they should binge or kissing randomly, out of the blue.

But, as the fairytale taught us, they were more. There were certain times in which Finn couldn't stop staring at Millie or asking himself if she was real.

The very sight of her was a delicate ray of sun burning on his skin, making him glow like a waterfall of diamonds. In all of her splendor, his baby brat had the ability to heal him, and make him feel like the best man ever existed on planet Earth.

Millie sometimes stares at him too, more times than she can admit to herself. She loves looking at him write down his music and drowning in his creativity. All of his black curls framing his head and falling upon his eyes as his posture is slouched on the desk as he holds a pencil in his hand.

And what about their kids? Well, they were unreal too.

Prince and Primrose were growing up, and Millie was doing her best to stay with them. She was a mom first, a wife second and, finally, a writer full-time (how amazing!); she was just waiting for people to read her new book, finally on the shelves of any bookshop in town.

She foretasted the moments of the first reviews, the comments, if people would enjoy her novel or not; she didn't dream of fame, or expected positive reviews only, but she wanted to write something that could help people's mind fly away.

In all honesty, Millie wishes her mind could fly away even know, but her brain is focused on the recipe standing in front of her. That was Grandma Florence's book recipe and she had to give justice to it.

"Alright." She ties her green apron around her slim waist, "Let's begin!"

"Mommy, uh, you can't bake." Prince laughs softly while sitting on the kitchen counter next to her.

He is almost five now. He speaks full sentences and God knows how chattery he is! All of his father in that. Millie sees his hair growing curlier than ever before; those soft chestnut ringlets frame his freckles puffy cheeks and hazelnut eyes.

"Ohh, but that doesn't mean I can't try. And you will help me!" She passes him a wooden spoon.

He dangles his legs back and forth, "Oky. But I can't read mommy."

"I know, love of mine." She laughs, tracing a finger on the recipe. "But you just have to pass me all the stuff I need. You will be the second chef, alright?"

He nods, throwing the spoon into the air, "Yeah! Daddy always calls me his first chef."

"And he's very right!"

"Mama. I'm hungry." Another little voice chirps.

Millie grins, placing a bowl of yogurt and red fruits on Primrose's high chair. It's her favorite snack. "Here, baby doll. You'll watch mommy and Prince bake our cake!"

"Ya, ca-ke." Primrose babbles with lips covered with yogurt.

"Cake! I love cake." Prince snuggles his face on Millie's chest as she steals a kiss in the top of his head.

"I know you do. Come on, let's try!"

It's not like Millie can bake. Actually, she is still a total failure in that—but there is nothing like practice to help you improve. This is why one fine day she woke up and decided to bake something for herself without destroying Castle Wolfbrown.