What was once a sleek and spotless well-equipped kitchen carefully run by the finest cooks, waitresses, and servants in the city is now being hijacked by a twenty year old married woman who has little to no experience whatsoever in successfully making a dish or getting creative with easy cookbook recipes without attempting to light the house on fire once or twice.

Atop the granite counters were an open bag of spilled cornstarch, ground cinnamon, a bowl of white sugar, and ten cups of frozen fresh blueberries. The floor tiles were stained by a semi-thick layer of butter, oil, and little sprinkles of water and lemon juice. More so, some of the many custom made stainless steel appliances sitting to the right were covered by grime and a disgusting mixture of liquid and powder of sorts. The whole kitchen was unkempt and full-blown cluttered, and that most certainly didn't exempt me.

"Damn it!" I shut the oven. "I've followed this incredibly easy and quick recipe cookbook for housewives but still I can't get the stupid recipe right!"

Groaning in frustration, I set aside the blueberry pie on the counter. I had a mini-breakdown of a failed attempt to bake a good blueberry pie on my own, without any assistance or help but with a recipe textbook for beginner's and yet I still couldn't do it right.

Angry, I flipped the pages on the cookbook and traced the text on the article that discussed the recipe on pages seventy-four to seventy-five using my index finger, gliding through the thick glossy paper.

"I followed every single instruction. It says here preheat the oven in three hundred seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit for about fifteen to twenty minutes," I said, tossing it to the floor, "That's what I did!"

Peeking from inside the staff's room was Lydia who asked, "Excuse me, Miss Avery. May we step in now?"

"No, not yet. I need to figure this out myself," I said, leaning by the fridge as I crouched on the floor. In spite of my denial, she stepped in and carefully cleaned the countertop starting with the spilled milk and eggs.

"Er...," Lydia scoffed. "Miss Avery, what are you making?" She asked, feeling grossed out as she stared at the runny and moderately brittle, fruit pie that's clearly overcooked on its bottom crust and precooked berries scattered all over.

"Isn't it obvious? It's a blueberry pie."

"Miss Avery, it's —- it's — uh perfect."

"Please don't lie, Lydia."

"I'm sorry to say this, Miss Avery, but whoever's gonna eat that is gonna go through at least a week of diarrhea," she said, "or worse, food poisoning."

"Really? It's that bad?" She nodded reluctantly.

Instead of convincing her to take back what she said or make her regret for speaking ill to my hard-worked pie, I laughed at Lydia's terrible reaction.

From the effort I put into buying the ingredients myself and doing it all myself, I was expecting at least a delicate, tasty, and cloudy-like flavored blueberry pie to die for.

But no matter how much we give to do something right —- even controlling every single ounce of variable present in the equation —- the only thing we can guarantee is the hope of achieving success and the will to accept setbacks when things don't go as anticipated.

"But don't worry, Miss Avery, I'm sure Mr. Greddon would be so delighted to know you've baked something for him," she said.

"It's not for him."

As she slowly collected the dirty dishes to the sink, Eric barged into the sight of a filthy kitchen to which he wasn't very pleased to be in.

"What the hell is going on here? This place is a disaster!"

"Chill, I'm just getting handy in the kitchen. We're going to clean it up in a minute."

Furious, he deliberately ignored me as he gritted his teeth. "Everyone," he clapped, gathering everyone to pay attention, "if you want to keep your jobs, get this place up tidy and ready to host lunch for my mother."

Immediately everyone hastened to their designated duties without a sound. They were poked and harassed by imminent fear on the tip of their tails.

"And you," he said, looking at me from head to toe, "get yourself cleaned and dressed. My mother better not be suspicious."

Looking at Eric who's obviously still clearly pissed from last night's heated argument, I chose not to interfere while his emotions were still at its peak. Quickly I showered upstairs and wore a lovely sky blue dress with white ruffles on the sleeves.

When I came down, everything was set, and displayed on the dining table was a bountiful supply of food. A few minutes later, our visitor has arrived. As she walked very frailly towards the table, I was in shock of her sudden health decline.

It's been a while since the wedding when I've last seen her, but today marks the first time I'm sharing a table with my mother-in-law sitting across me. Frankly, I wasn't at all thrilled about her presence. It wasn't as easy as a snap of a finger to forget her part in all of this.

The three of us sat down and began eating. Polite pleasantries were reciprocated, but they weren't enough to lessen the already awkward ambiance. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Eric kept shoving me with his elbow; pushing me to make conversation.

"Eric, son, could you pass me the salt, please? This steak is a little too bland for my taste," Laurel said, barely touching her food.

"Is it? On the contrary, I think it's quite flavorful," I said. Eric passed the salt, glaring angrily at me. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. It must've been my loss in appetite." She put the spoon and fork down on her plate and massaged the temples of her head as her elbows rest on the table.

"Three days ago I've been having trouble sleeping due to the sudden chills that visit me every night. I couldn't even lift a glass of water on my own when I'm thirsty, maybe that's why I feel a little dehydrated," she added.

"Are you alright, mom? You want some water?"

"Laurel, there's a guest room upstairs on the rear right. You can rest there for as long as you want," I said.

"Yes... I probably must. These headaches are killing me." Tired, she grunted as she stood up, calling for assistance from the maids. Eric offered to help her to the stairs but she refused.

She took a long, deep breath and held the handrails as firmly as she could. With her hand trembling involuntary, she consumed an entire minute with every step. On the way up, she complained about the numbing pain in her joints even with no effort was exerted.

"As soon as you're done, we should go up and check on her," Eric said, holding a glass of water.

"Of course."

I knocked on the door and entered the room as quietly as possible. She was sleeping soundly, and I didn't want to disturb her peaceful slumber. Staring at her, she didn't look as sickly as she portrayed herself to be.

As I sat down beside her, she awoke and held my hand. "Eric said you were getting suspicious about his late-night sneak outs," she said. "Well, rightfully so."

"My dear, Eric has been with me that whole time. My son has been helping me in any way he could like a good son he is. You're lucky to have him as a husband. I'm glad you made the right choice."

I scoffed. "Oh, really? I wonder why he couldn't just tell me that he's with you," I said, "and yes, he sure has been a great husband." I let out a fake laugh.

"Good... That's good to hear." She touched my hand. "And I'm sure he would make a great father to your children."

Shocked, I let go of her hand. I breathed heavily and thought of walking out of the room.  But even as I showed disinterest, she kept talking; knowing exactly how to manipulate me into giving her what she wants.

"Eric's father and I," she scoffed, "we're not getting any younger. And as you can see, I'm getting worse every day."

"Time can be a lot of things: a foe and a friend. But right now, time continuously keeps betraying and killing me now more than ever. And I'm afraid we can't do anything about it but to catch up to it, listen to its demands, and make the most of what we have left."

"I'm sorry, are you saying you're expecting your grandson anytime soon? With all due respect, Laurel, it's not your decision to make."

I walked straight out of the room in utter outrage. I couldn't believe the audacity of that woman. Regardless of the circumstances, she was wrong to pressure me into having a family with her son.

Confronted by a firework of mixer emotions, anger was the first thought that popped into my mind. And Eric, above all, was the very person I wanted to burst my flames to. After searching every room, I finally found him at the terrace calling someone on his phone while staring emptily at the towering buildings that are beneath us.

"Do you know that your mother used the cancer card on me?"

Seeing me on the brink of blowing a fuse, he ended the call and put his phone inside his pocket. "Why do you always see the worst in people? Can't you see she's really sick?"

"Sick enough to guilt-trip me into having a baby with you?"

He scoffed. "It's not like you haven't seen this coming. Come on, Avery. We're married."

"What the hell, Eric? Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

"What she thinks of me shapes my identity as her son. Her approval means a lot to me. So whatever she asks, I do."

"And how about what I think of you, Eric? Do you even care how I'm feeling right now?"

"Right now, my mom is my priority."

"God, you're just like her," I said.

I ran downstairs as fast as I could and left the house without telling a soul. Not knowing where to go, I walked along the pavements of Vichtrone Avenue to get some things off my chest. My mind felt like it was going off the deep end until I saw the only person I wanted to see.

He was walking alone on the other side of the street with his head facing down.

"Nathan!" I shouted, waving my hand to and fro. I crossed the street, walked towards him, and said, "If this isn't what you call fate, I don't know what is."

"Like the hookers who coincidentally showed up to your apartment days before you got married to your guy best friend?" He said, "Yeah, it's fate alright."

"When will you stop holding that against me?"

"Until you realize what you did was horrible and selfish and everything evil."

"Just please get me out of here."

"Not in your wildest dreams. Your husband will  be calling a search party to scour the whole city in the next twenty minutes, and no, I don't have enough cash to bail myself out of prison."

"I'm running an errand for your crazy sister which I'm not very much happy to do, by the way," he said.

"Then why do it?"

"Cause she's blackmailing me."

"For what?" My curiosity was peaked. I got closer to him and blocked his way.

"None of your business, princess. Now go back to your palace before somebody sees you here."

"Nate, please..."

"No." He continued to walk despite my plea.

"I — I still you owe you dinner!" Meters apart from each other, I yelled, hoping he could hear me.

"Remember? When Audrey invited you to come to dinner at my place and you didn't get a chance to eat because I told you to leave."

From where he was standing, he turned his back and yelled back, "Yeah, I do remember. But I ordered some Chinese food that night so I'm good. No grudges."

"Wait!" I groaned, hesitating if I should chase after him. "Nate, please. I just need someone to talk to!" I walked briskly towards him, my rapid footsteps made him halt.

"Isn't your heart playing that silly ringtone you said you programmed it in? Because I really need you right now," was my last request.

After paying little to not attention to my desperate call, he continued to walk away even further, ignoring everything I've said.

"I love you, Nathan Trevmore!"

Upon hearing what seemed surreal to him, his stubbornness was tamed and finally he stopped. He turned around with hopeful eyes and a surprised grin. I walked to him again, this time, for a shorter distance, now that he had no plan of leaving.

"Please believe me," I added, taking a deep breath while gazing intently to his starry, promising eyes. "Then prove it."

With no hesitation, I did what he wanted me to. I grabbed his face with my two, bare hands so passionately like it was the last time I could touch him, and not a second had passed that my lips kissed his in the middle of the long, wide road.

And the moon was full and the stars were illuminating, and every bit of celestial body in the solar system cheered in unison of the kind of power they could only dream of making, for nothing was more powerful than the magnificent truth in the love of two souls.

The kiss was so pure; it felt like a beautiful apprentice of music was striking on the strings of a magical harpsichord that only her can play, and in every hand movement she gracefully
makes, specks of pixie dust float in mid-air following her hand, and the dust tasted like rain for all living beings on earth.

"Get out of the road! Stupid kids!" shouted a grumpy, averagely old man driving a minivan as he honked his horn incessantly at us.