"Who could it be that made her mother this happy?" Seven thought to herself, curiosity creeping in.
After finishing up the work at hand, she wiped her hands clean and stepped into the main shop.
At the counter, her mother was deep in conversation with a man.
He looked about the same age as her mother, maybe a year or two older, with salt-and-pepper hair that suited him well. His clothes were neat and simple, and there was a warm, charming smile dancing on his face.
But what caught Seven's eye even more was the way her mother's face was shining, her eyes twinkling like a child who just got her favorite candy.
And the man... he was looking at her mother the exact same way.
So lost in their conversation, they hadn't even noticed Seven standing there.
Seven, feeling very much like an intruder in her own bakery, cleared her throat, much intentionally, deliberately loud.
And it worked, the spell broke and they looked at her.
Her mother glanced at her, a soft blush rising on her cheeks.
She quickly pulled Seven closer by the hand and, turning to the man, said with a proud smile,
"David, meet my lovely daughter, Seven."
Seven offered a polite greeting.
The man named David, turned to her with a kind smile and said, "Seven.., It's a pleasure. I'm David Miller, your mother's childhood sweetheart."
At that, Seven's eyes widened with shock.
Seven's mother gasped and playfully punched David's shoulder, scolding him,
"Stop it, David!"
David clutched his shoulder dramatically, pretending to cry in pain. Both of them laughed like two kids up to no good.
Seven watched them with wide eyes, feeling like she was peeking into a part of her mother's life she had never seen before.
Her mother explained, still chuckling,
"David and I were best friends growing up. And this silly man here used to ask me to marry him the every chance he got."
"And she always said no," David added, making a sad face, before laughing again.
Later, they all sat together at the small table, in the main shop, sharing tea.
Slowly, between the sips and laughs, Seven learned about the stories of her mother's childhood.
Her mother's family had moved to the village of Elderwell when she was young, while David's family stayed behind in their hometown.
David, it turned out, was visiting a nearby village called Barylyn for work.
And when he heard how close he was to Elderwell, he couldn't resist making the trip to see an old, dear friend.
"Oh, so you came all this way just to meet my mom?" Seven asked, raising her eyebrows more playfully but curiously.
David grinned without hesitation.
"Of course. Talking to your mother is worth every mile. She's very special to me."
"See?" her mother said, nudging Seven with a smile.
"He's always been like this."
David chuckled, cheekily flashing another boyish smile.
Seven's heart felt full watching them — seeing her mother so lively, so young again in a way she hadn't seen in years.
It made something warm bloom inside her chest.
After dinner, David stood up to leave, explaining that he would be spending the night at the village inn.
Lira insisted he stay with them, but he gently refused, saying he had come with a merchant friend and needed to catch up on some work tonight.
Still, he promised that he would visit again before he left in the morning.
Seven watched him disappear into the cool night air, and her mother waving from the doorway like a girl seeing off her favorite storybook hero.
After clearing the table and washing the dishes, Seven wandered back into the kitchen, where her mother was busy sorting ingredients and boxes.
"Mom," Seven called softly, her voice full of affection.
She walked over and gently placed her hand on her mother's shoulder, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort she always found there.
Her mother paused, turned around, and smiled at her.
Without saying a word, she took Seven's hand in both of hers and kissed it, her eyes shining with love.
Even though the tiredness of the long day showed in the little lines around her eyes, they still sparkled brightly when she looked at Seven.
"David loves cinnamon cookies," her mother spoke.
"Wow!" Seven jumped in with a grin,
"The ones you bake for me? They're the best! Need any help?"
Her mother laughed softly, shaking her head.
"No, sweet girl, I want to make them myself."
"Hmm," Seven hummed and then walked over to the shelf where her mother was preparing everything.
She perched herself there, swinging her legs lightly, now sitting face-to-face with her mom.
"You're literally glowing," Seven said, tilting her head playfully.
"You still like him, huh?"
"Like whom?" Lira asked.
"David" Seven replied.
Her mother let out a half-laugh, half-gasp, looking at her in mock shock.
"No! Not like that. Not romantically," she said, amused.
"But yes... as a friend, he's still one of my favorite people."
Seven nodded, smiling to herself.
There was a kind of peace in seeing her mother this happy.
After helping her finish up in the kitchen, passing her ingredients, cleaning the counter, and sharing a few more laughs, Seven hugged her mother goodnight and slipped away into her room.
Landing face-first on her bed with a soft "oof," she stretched out, her muscles sighing with relief.
As she shifted, her pillow slid aside — and there it was.
The letter.
"Ohh," Seven breathed out, remembering.
She had almost forgotten about it with everything that had happened.
Sitting up, she grabbed the letter and checked the windowsill, where the first letter still hung. Smiling to herself, she made a tiny hole at the top of the new letter and strung it up next to the first one. Now hanging side by side in the soft moonlight.
"Who are you?" she asked, looking at the letters, then out at the vast expanse of mountain and trees and some scattered houses. With a deep breath, she closed the window and locked it, determined to sleep.
The next morning, when the sun peeked through the trees and touched the village with its warm golden fingers, she awoke again to the cold breeze. The window was open.
And just below the rosemary pot—another letter.
This time with a name and address.