The next morning dawned quietly, the first pale streaks of sunlight slipping through the thin curtains of Amelia's new kitchen. The world outside was still and cool, but inside, the air was warm with the comforting aromas of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee.
Amelia stood at the stove, one hand skillfully flipping eggs in the pan while the other adjusted the toaster's settings. She moved with the easy familiarity of a woman who had performed this ritual countless times before, her motions precise and efficient. Years of single-handedly managing three energetic children had honed her multitasking skills to an art form.
She breathed in deeply, savoring the mingling scents of breakfast and the faint, soapy freshness from the dishes she had washed the night before. Mornings like this , quiet, uninterrupted, and hers , were rare. It was her treasured hour, the calm before the delightful chaos her triplets inevitably brought into her day.
