I'm not sure how much time has passed since my papa has left. I've carefully peeked into the pot a few times, not really being able to see much since there was so much steam coming from it. I would scowl, batting the steam from my face before placing the lid back on the pot. “Come on, Noémie.” I huffed to myself, “You got this.”I carefully yanked the lid off the pot. As I impatiently waited for the steam to let up, watching as it drifted up into the air and disappeared, I tried to rack my brain to figure out what my papa could be making. He doesn’t usually cook with duck. I don’t think I can really remember a time when I’ve eaten duck.Peeking into the pot, eyeing the dark liquid that simmered thickly in the bottom, I could only assume it was some sort of broth or unfinished stew. It smelled amazing. I could barely smell the diced vegetables that bobbed and weaved in the broth. The wave of spices mingled deliciously with a more prominent smell. I wasn’t entirely sure what the ot

It wasn't long before my papa came back from his trip to the market. As he had some of the bags of ingredients floating around him as he shuffled into the kitchen, the rest was cradled safely in the hold of my brothers. They shuffled in behind our papa, their tanned skin covered in bruises and scratches and their clothes covered in dirt.“You can put those bags on the counter.” Papa told them. “I’ll have some snacks prepared for you two when you're done with your shower.” They lugged the bags over to the counter just as our papa ordered. “I would kill for a hot bubble bath right now.” Antonio whined.“The last time you took a bath when you were tired, you almost drowned.” Joaquin rebutted. “You’ll take a shower.”“You're no fun.”“Our fathers are stressed enough,” Joaquin scowled, “They don’t need to worry about you dying on top of dealing with whatever drama is going on at the castle.” “But-” Joaquin ignored his attempt to protest as he gently began to shove our brother out of the

As I melted into the sofa, snuggled deep into a cocoon of thick blankets, I groaned miserably. I could feel my stomach pulsed with pain. It ached, throbbing in a type of agony that was slowly bringing me to tears. “Are you okay?” From the voice, I could tell it was Joaquin talking to me. He poked me through my swathe, “You sound horrible.” “Nooo,” I whined, “Tummy hurts.”“I’ll grab your heating pad.”I grumble out a muffled, “Thank you.”As I heard Joaquin shuffling away, I could feel someone else move closer to me. I snuggled closer to the body heat, ignoring the hand that began to pat around my blankets. “Do you want your stomach rubbed or back?” Antonio asks.“Back,” I answered, “Don’t want to move.”It wasn’t long before his hand found my back. He gently began to rub, snickering quietly at my pain as I slowly began to drift off to sleep. The warmth was nice. It helped ease the pain, but it wasn’t enough to dissolve it completely. I would need my heating pad for that.I desper