“You said you wanted these as soon as they arrived,” she said, hesitating just long enough to irritate me.
Her Glow products.
“Put them on my desk.”
I stared at the two plain brown boxes as she left.
One by one, I opened every bottle, every jar, every bar of soap. I inhaled deeply—again and again.
Some of the products echoed her, but none of them smelled like her.
Fenrir was right. Her scent was the anomaly.
Chapter 8
Lielit
We were at my favourite restaurant for my thirtieth birthday when that sensation crept back—the unmistakable feeling of being watched. This time it was sharper, colder, and it made the hair along the back of my neck rise. I was about to glance around when the waitress arrived, carefully setting our food down between us.
“You look a little peaky tonight,” Grandma said, because she never missed a thing.
“Someone walked over my grave,” I murmured back.
“Probably that Darryl boy,” Grandad muttered under his breath.
“He’s been out of the picture for ages,” I said with a shrug.
They didn’t know about the messages. Or the death threat.
“I never liked him,” Dad added.
“You didn’t say that when they were dating, dear,” Mum said with a smirk.
“The platter looks amazing,” I said quickly, steering the conversation away.
I couldn’t change their minds about marriage and children. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried.
“It would be nice to see you happy and settled before I die,” Grandma said softly.
A chair scraped sharply across the tiled floor somewhere behind me. I ignored it and focused on her instead.
I reached across the table and took both her hands in mine.
“What makes you think I’m not happy now?” I asked gently.
Her smile came slowly, the fine lines around her eyes deepening—not with disappointment, but with warmth.
“Yes,” she murmured.“I suppose times have changed.”
My parents began separating the lamb from the bone, piling rice onto their plates. An entire leg of lamb would keep them occupied for at least an hour.
My grandparents bickered. My parents tried to nudge the conversation into safer territory. And I leaned back, letting the noise wash over me, content—for the moment—to simply watch them all.
???
When I got into work the following morning, Anj had left a card and a present on my desk. She wasn’t in yet, so she must have stopped by late on Friday. She wasn’t just my employee—she was a friend who’d been with me for most of the journey. We always exchanged small gifts on birthdays and Christmas. Long gone were my partying and clubbing days. I’d poured those years into nurturing my baby—Her Glow.
I picked up the card.
