Eva Mitchell slid her bare feet onto the cold floorboards and rubbed her still-sleepy eyes. She frowned, glancing at the wall clock. She had overslept — but on Saturdays, she lived by the rule that one had to catch up on a whole week’s worth of sleep. What truly surprised her, though, was what had woken her from her blissful slumber — Mozart’s Turkish March. Usually, she was yanked from sleep by some rock song her niece was currently obsessed with.

She followed the music into the kitchen, where an old red-and-black radio — practically an antique — was still dutifully doing its job. Lucy was sitting at the table, rhythmically tapping her foot against the floor.

Eva leaned against the doorframe, raising her brows high.

“You’re listening to classical music now?” she asked.

Lucy was clearly deep in her own little world, as shown by the startled look on her face when she noticed her awakened aunt. She turned the volume down and instinctively flipped a page in her sketchbook to hide what she was working on.

“Did I wake you?” she replied evasively.

“Yeah, but I’m more shocked by how you woke me.”

Eva peeked into the kettle and set the water to boil. In the meantime, she pulled out her favorite mug — the one with “Costa del Sol” printed on it — and scooped in three teaspoons of coffee. She leaned against the counter and squinted.

“So? Fell in love with a pianist and changed your taste in music?”

Lucy choked on her cold tea and laughed awkwardly.

“No, it’s just that Skillet and Three Days Grace don’t really go with the theme of my latest assignment.”

Eva poured the water into her mug and sat down across from her niece, warming her hands on the ceramic.

“What’s the theme?” she asked out of curiosity, or maybe just to ask something.

“Silence and awakening.”

Just before midnight, Lucy had finished her second-to-last project and uploaded the photo to the server. All that remained was to present it during her upcoming spatial painting class. Riding that wave, she’d gotten up early on Saturday to start her next piece — this time for classical sculpture. Maybe it was inspired by Jonathan’s performance the night before… or maybe she just felt like doing something calmer for once. Either way, she already had a few ideas.

She shut her sketchbook before her aunt could sneak a peek and stood up, finishing the last of her tea.

“Heading out?” Eva asked.

“Meeting Lavoie in the city,” Lucy replied from the hallway.

Eva quickly followed her into her room and stood in the doorway.

“We were supposed to clean the attic today,” she reminded her in a cool tone.

“I’ll be back by noon. Besides, it’s not like it’s on fire,” Lucy said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Lucy, you promised.”

That line — the classic guilt trip — cut through the air, but Lucy dodged it skillfully. Her aunt used that one far too often.

“Come on, we’re celebrating a friend’s new job. Quick trip downtown, and I’ll be back. The boxes aren’t going anywhere.”

Aunt Mitchell didn’t look convinced, but Lucy wasn’t about to let that stop her. That was just how Eva was — everything had to be planned like a Swiss watch. If even one thing went off-schedule, she’d spiral.

“I’m caught up with all my assignments, so I deserve a break,” Lucy added as if defending herself.

Eva narrowed her eyes. She hated giving in — but she did, just before Lucy could throw out the most painful argument of all: you’re not my mother.

“Just don’t expect me to explain to your dad why you flunked a class!” she called out as her niece was already shutting the door. She flinched when it slammed.

With a sigh, she headed back to the kitchen to make a late breakfast.

Lucy had been living with her for five years now, and they still had their share of spats — big and small. It was due to their different personalities, tastes, and, of course, the circumstances that had forced young Mitchell to move in with her father’s sister. Eva had willingly remained single and child-free, though she’d helped raise Lucy from birth. But as the saying goes — little kids, little problems. Lucy had gone through many rebellious phases. These days, their relationship wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t smooth sailing either.

And in the Mitchell family, things were always a little complicated.

❄ ❄ ❄ 

Lucy barely made it onto the bus — the doors hissed shut behind her. She was immediately greeted by a ticket inspector. She showed him her Presto card on her phone and found a seat by the large window.
She could’ve walked to the Line 2 train station, but laziness won — she opted for the bus. From there, she’d hop on a train toward Kennedy Station, ride for about thirty minutes until Sheppard–Yonge, and then switch to Line 4 toward Don Mills Station. The CF Fairview Mall would be just around the corner.

That gave her forty to fifty minutes of peace. She popped in her wireless earbuds and, unlike that morning, hit shuffle on a Citizen Soldier album. She needed some energy for her meetup with friends — but the universe had other plans.

In the crowd of passengers, she spotted a face she’d hoped not to see for at least another hour.

Jonathan squeezed through toward her, flashing a wide grin.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling off his foggy glasses.

Lucy reluctantly took out one earbud.

“Seriously? I’m taking the next bus. Isn’t it obvious?”

He wiped his glasses on his scarf and put them back on — they fogged up again instantly.

“Well, look at that, same here!” he said with a smirk. “Must be because we live on opposite ends of the same street.”

“You might be onto something, Sherlock,” she muttered.

He snorted and went back to cleaning his lenses.

“And that’s why I’m glad I don’t need glasses,” Lucy said smugly.

“Laugh all you want — wearing glasses has its perks.”

“Like what?”

“There’s an unspoken rule: you don’t hit someone who wears glasses.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?”

“Exactly. So, you can’t punch me.”

“And why would I want to?”

“Because today’s mission is to make you smile at least three times!”

Lucy nearly choked on air.

“Go find God or something!” she barked, hopping off the bus. Both of them hurried toward the train station, escaping the cold.

“Wanna bet?” he asked as they waited on the platform.

Lucy bit her lip, debating whether it was even worth entertaining such a dumb game. But in the end, she took the risk.

“You’re on. Loser buys the winner the best coffee for a week.”

“Deal.”