ELIZABETH'S POV
The grocery store at night always feels like its own little world. The harsh fluorescent lights make everything look too bright, too clean, like reality stepped aside for something quieter.
Rose pushes the cart like she's on a mission.
"First stop," she says, "snacks."
"You say that like it isn't the only reason we're here."
She flashes a grin. "Exactly."
We turn into the snack aisle, and Rose's eyes light up like a child's on Christmas morning. She grabs a family-sized bag of chips and tosses it into the cart with zero hesitation.
"You're not even pretending to decide?" I ask.
"Nope. These chips and I have history."
I shake my head, amused.
I follow her down the aisle and grab a box of crackers—mostly because I actually like them and because I know Rose will tease me for picking the most boring snack in existence.
She grabs two boxes of cookies.
"Why two?" I ask.
"One for us," she says. "One for future us."
"That's not how that works."
"It is in my world."
She moves on while humming under her breath. I watch her for a moment—her carefree steps, her glowing little smile—and I feel that mix of pride and worry that sneaks up on me whenever I look at her for too long.
She's still young.
And I'm so aware of how quickly everything can vanish.
We continue down the aisle, collecting snacks with far more enthusiasm than we should. A few people pass us: a tired mother with a toddler, an older couple holding hands, a teenage boy scanning the candy shelf like it's a life or death decision.
Normal people. Ordinary nights.
I cling to moments like these because they remind me that I'm allowed to have a life outside of work, outside of expectations, outside of everything I've been carrying.
"Wine," Rose announces as we turn toward the back of the store. "Preferably the cheap but drinkable kind."
"Only you can categorize wine like that," I say.
We walk to the aisle where an entire wall of bottles stares back at us, each promising something different. Rose taps her chin dramatically before selecting a mid-range rosé.
"This one looks cute."
"That's not how you buy wine."
"Maybe not, but aesthetics count."
I pick up a different bottle. "This one's actually good."
"How do you know?"
"Because Massie used it for a dinner party once."
Rose places her bottle back and takes mine instead. "Sold."
As she puts it in the cart, she glances at me. "So… you're really okay?"
I pause.
She doesn't have to clarify what she means. She's been reading me since she was five.
I lean on the cart handle. "Yeah. Just tired."
"That's not all."
"No."
She waits, patient and soft.
I swallow. "Sometimes it feels like I'm always one step behind. Like work demands more every day, like I'm constantly trying to prove myself."
"You shouldn't have to."
"I know," I say. "But I do."
She studies me quietly. "Does this have to do with Liam Smith showing up again?"
I rub my forehead. "Rose…"
"I swear I'm not trying to push. I just want to understand."
I let out a long breath. "He's… difficult. And unpredictable. And the more he tries to figure me out, the more I feel like I'm standing under a spotlight I didn't ask for."
"And you hate spotlights," she says gently.
"Exactly."
She nods, then lightly bumps her shoulder against mine. "You're doing your best. And you're good at what you do. If someone like him can't see that, then that's on him, not you."
Her voice is full of conviction. It almost hurts.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
She smiles. "That's what sisters are for."
We walk toward the frozen section next, our cart rattling along the linoleum floor. Rose drapes her arms over the handle and leans her cheek against them.
"I want ice cream," she announces.
"Massie wants ice cream," I remind her.
"Right, right. I can't believe I almost forgot her sacred request."
She grabs a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. Then another. I raise an eyebrow.
"Massie wouldn't want two."
"These aren't both for Massie," she says. "One is for emotional support."
"For who?"
"For me."
I laugh softly. "You're unbearable."
She grins. "Thank you."
We start heading toward the checkout, but halfway there I stop in front of a display of discounted candles. Rose groans.
"Please don't fall into the candle trap."
"I just want one that smells like something calming."
"They all smell like lies," she says.
"Then I'll pick the least offensive lie."
I pick up a candle labeled Peach Blossom Breeze. I smell it. It's… nice. Simple. Gentle. The kind of scent that fills a room without demanding attention.
Rose sighs. "Fine. Pick one."
"You can pick one too."
Her eyes brighten. "Really?"
"Yes."
Ten seconds later she chooses one that smells like vanilla and berries. "This one smells like happiness."
"It smells like dessert."
"Same thing."
We put them in the cart and finally make our way to the front.
The cashier is a man in his forties with a kind face and bags under his eyes. He scans our items slowly, giving us a polite nod. Rose chats with him casually, telling him we're having a movie night. He smiles the way adults smile at enthusiastic young people—warm but tired.
As he hands me the receipt, he says, "You girls enjoy your evening."
"We will," Rose promises.
Outside, the night air is colder. The wind picks up just enough to lift the hair around my face. Rose huddles into her jacket.
"Okay," she says. "I vote we walk fast before I freeze to death."
"It's not that cold."
"To you," she argues.
We walk home with the bag handles cutting into our fingers. Streetlights flicker above us. Houses glow with warm windows. A dog barks somewhere in the distance.
It feels like a normal night.
It feels safe.
When we reach our door, Rose uses her hip to keep the bags from slipping and calls out, "We're back!"
Massie wakes up with a soft groan. "Ice cream?"
Rose holds up the tub like she's presenting an award. "Your wish is our command."
Massie grins sleepily. "Bless you."
I head into the kitchen to unload the groceries. Rose follows behind, fidgeting with her candle.
"You know," she says, "I think you should do something for yourself this weekend."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Go to a café, buy yourself flowers, sleep in. Something that's just for you."
"I'll try."
"You never try," she says softly. "You don't let yourself rest."
I pause with my hand on the wine bottle. "I just… don't want to fall behind."
"You won't," she whispers. "Not everyone is out to get you."
Her voice is so quiet I almost miss the meaning behind it.
Almost.
I close the cabinet slowly. "Becka isn't a threat."
Rose looks unconvinced. "She feels like one."
"She's just… jealous. And unprofessional. But she can't do anything to me."
Rose watches me like she wants to believe that.
I wish I fully believed it myself.
Later, after everything is put away and Massie is wide awake again, we settle into the living room for movie night. The coffee table is covered in snacks, wine glasses, and a candle burning softly.
We put on a comedy. Something light. Something that doesn't ask anything from us.
Rose curls up beside me with a blanket. Massie sits in her recliner, eating ice cream straight from the tub. The glow from the TV flickers across the room.
I lean my head back against the couch and exhale.
This—this right here—is home.
Their laughter.
The warmth.
The lack of pressure.
It untangles something in my chest.
Halfway through the movie, Rose nudges me. "You're zoning out."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"Fine," I admit. "A little."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Just… work. And life."
"And a certain CEO?"
"Rose."
"Fine," she says, smirking. "I'll stop."
But I know she won't.
Massie looks at me with her soft, understanding eyes. "Don't let work steal moments like these from you."
"I won't," I promise.
And I mean it.
For tonight, I let my guard down.
For tonight, the world can wait.
I sip wine. I listen to Rose's laughter. I feel Massie's presence like a steady anchor beside me.
I let myself be twenty-five.
I let myself breathe.
I let myself exist without being useful.
And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, I feel… okay.
Not perfect.
Not fixed.
Just okay.
It's enough.
By the time the credits roll, Rose is half-asleep on my shoulder. Massie yawns and stretches.
"That was nice," she says.
"It was," I agree.
We clean up the living room slowly, quietly, like none of us want to break the calm.
When everything is done, Massie kisses the top of my head. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
"Night."
Rose follows me to our shared hallway. She reaches out and softly squeezes my hand. "Thanks for tonight."
"Thank you," I say.
We both smile.
Then she slips into her room, and I slip into mine.
I change into pajamas and crawl into bed. The candle I bought earlier is on my nightstand, still unopened. I run my finger along the lid.
Tomorrow will bring new weight.
New demands.
New battles I'll have to face.
But tonight?
Tonight I'm safe.
Loved.
Home.
I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep without thinking about Liam Smith, or work, or anything else waiting for me.
Just warmth.
Just family.
Just peace.
For now.