Chapter 6 - The New Normal
The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of our kitchen, casting a warm, golden glow across the countertops that hadn't felt this welcoming in years. There were no frantic sticky notes fluttering from the refrigerator door, no hurried demands for dry cleaning, and no hovering presence of Blythe orchestrating our lives like an autocratic warden. Instead, the house was alive with the quiet, comforting sounds of a family learning how to breathe again.
Dad stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with a care that felt almost ritualistic. He wore his favorite faded blue apron, the one our real mother had bought him before she passed away, a relic from the past that had spent the last three years buried in the back of the pantry. When Blythe moved in, she had deemed it "unsightly" and thrown it out, but Dad had quietly fished it out of the trash on his way to work last week.
"Smells incredible, Dad," Reid said, walking into the kitchen dressed in his track jacket and carrying his engineering notebook. He tossed his keys onto the counter without looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was going to scold him for clutter. The casual freedom of it made my chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief.
"Extra maple syrup today," Dad replied, offering a genuine smile that reached his eyes, erasing half the tired wrinkles that had carved themselves into his face during the worst of Blythe's deception. "You both have big tests today. Need the brain power."
Ever since Blythe had been legally evicted and forced into a cramped downtown rental under the weight of her impending criminal fraud charges, our lives had undergone a radical, beautiful restructuring. The twins, Mabel and Finn, were happier too. Without Blythe’s constant, stressed-out screaming and cold, transactional parenting, the toddlers were sleeping through the night and giggling more often. We had even managed to hire a part-time college student from Drake University named Chloe to help watch them three afternoons a week. It wasn't cheap, but Dad had balanced his overtime hours, and with the frozen funds slowly being liquidated back into our household account, we could finally afford proper childcare without sacrificing our own futures.
"Did the lawyer call yet?" I asked, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Reid. I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter warmth.
Dad paused, the spatula hovering over the griddle. His jaw tightened slightly, a fleeting shadow crossing his features before he smoothed his expression back into calm reassurance. "Mr. Vance called around six this morning. Blythe’s defense team is trying to argue that the wire transfers were 'marital investments' for her interior design showroom—the same showroom the city shut down for zoning violations last Tuesday. The judge isn't buying it. But it means the upcoming deposition on Friday is going to be messy."
"Will you have to face her?" Reid asked, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth, his protective older-brother instincts flaring up instantly even though he was the younger sibling.
"I'll handle her," Dad said firmly, setting a towering stack of pancakes in the center of the table. "You two just focus on school. Laurel has her scholarship interview this afternoon, and Reid, you have your regional robotics showcase."
I swallowed hard, feeling the familiar flutter of nervous anticipation in my stomach. The interview at Iowa State wasn't just a formality anymore; it was the final gateway to securing my full-ride tuition. With my financial aid documents officially reinstated and verified, the admissions board wanted to meet me in person to discuss my application essay—the very essay Blythe had tried to sabotage by locking me in the house to scrub baseboards and feed the twins.
"I'm ready," I said, meeting my father's gaze with absolute certainty. "She doesn't have any power over us anymore, Dad. None of us do."
After breakfast, Reid and I walked out to the driveway together. The crisp November air bit at our cheeks, carrying the sharp, clean scent of fallen leaves and approaching winter. For the first time in as long as I could remember, getting into our old sedan didn't feel like stepping into a prison transport. It felt like stepping into a vehicle that was finally carrying us toward our real lives.
May you like
As I pulled out of the neighborhood and headed toward the high school to drop Reid off before my afternoon university appointment, my phone buzzed in the cup holder. I glanced down. It was an unknown number with a Des Moines area code. I let it go to voicemail, refusing to let anything rattle my focus today. We had survived the storm, and as the engine hummed smoothly beneath us, I knew that whatever Blythe had planned for Friday's deposition, we were strong enough to withstand it.
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