Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Promise
One year after the night at L'Etoile, the winter snow had returned to the city, dusting the oak trees outside 1412 South Maple Street in a quiet layer of white.
Inside Apartment 3B, the radiator clinked with a comforting, steady rhythm.
The apartment was filled with the scent of pine, roasted turkey, and warm vanilla. A small Christmas tree stood near the window, decorated with handmade paper ornaments and glowing white lights.
At the small dining table, three plates were set.
Ben sat in his chair, his shoes swinging two inches above the floor, eagerly clutching a silver fork.
Daniel sat across from him, wearing a comfortable maroon wool sweater, carving slices of tender meat onto a serving platter.
Emily brought a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes to the table, setting it down between them before taking her seat.
Before anyone picked up their fork, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of folded blue paper. He smoothed it out on the table beside his plate.
It was a new drawing.
In bright blue and red crayon, three stick figures stood hand in hand in front of a warm red brick house. Above them, a large yellow sun shone brightly over a green tree laden with tiny red apples.
At the bottom, in neat, proud letters, Ben had written:
OUR HOME. LOVE, BEN.
Daniel looked down at the drawing, then up at Emily, whose eyes were shining with quiet happiness in the soft light of the room.
He reached across the table, taking Emily’s hand in his right, while Ben reached out his small hand to take Daniel’s left.
“Are we going to eat now?” Ben asked, looking at the turkey with bright, impatient eyes. “Or are we going to talk about apples again?”
Daniel let out a warm, booming laugh that echoed off the clean wooden walls of the apartment—a sound that the cold, empty halls of Mercer Tower had never heard in forty years.
May you like
“We’re going to eat, Ben,” Daniel said gently, squeezing Emily’s hand. “We’re going to eat every single bite.”
Outside, the snow fell softly against the glass window, covering the city in a quiet sheet of white. But inside Apartment 3B, the room was warm, the plates were full, and no one would ever have to ask for leftovers again.
