Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny ( Quintessa and Tyrone )

Mrs. York came downstairs only to find Tyrone and Quintessa very close to each other, with Tyrone half-leaning over Quintessa. Her cheeks flushed red as she cleared her throat, "Ahem, mind your manners!" Tyrone, with a slight smirk, not only didn't back off but kissed Quintessa on the cheek before saying, "Mom, I want spaghetti alle vongole."

Mrs. York huffed, "Be glad there's anything for you at all. Don't be picky with me."

Despite her words, Wilma brought out two plates of spaghetti alle vongole from the kitchen a few minutes later.

Long strands of spaghetti mixed with a white wine-infused sauce, tender clams, and a sprinkle of fresh parsley made the dish exquisitely inviting.

Mrs. York removed her apron, handed it to Wilma, and told them both, "Eat up while it's hot, and hurry on out after you're done."

Despite her seemingly dismissive tone, she couldn't help but remind them the dish was hot and to be careful not to burn themselves.

The plate in front of her made Quintessa paused. Memories from long ago were suddenly evoked, transporting her back in time. She was an 8-year-old girl again, hearing her mother's gentle advice. "Quinn, be a dear and finish your meal, okay? Mommy will be back soon."

"Quinn, if someday I can't cook for you, you still have to eat well, no pickiness, you hear?"

"Quinn, even if I'm not by your side, you must always be brave and strong."

And then, she never came back.

"Why aren't you eating?" Mrs. York's voice snapped Quintessa back to reality. She couldn't look up, fearing her teary eyes would give her away.

"I'll eat." Quintessa picked up her fork, her hands trembling. The lightweight spaghetti seemed impossible to hold.

Observing Quintessa struggling to pick up the noodles several times, Mrs. York commented, "What's with you, eating like a child? Can't handle a fork? Here, take this one." Quintessa hurriedly took the offered fork.

"How does it taste?"

Quintessa kept her head low, nodding, "It's delicious."

Tyrone frowned, sensing something off in Quintessa's voice.

The taste lingered, blending with the memory of her mother's cooking. Quintessa's hands shook even more, tears threatening to fall. Each bite of spaghetti felt like a stone lodged in her chest, painfully squeezing her heart.

UMS

Tyrone tasted the dish, and commented with a hint of disdain, "Mom, it's a bit bland."

"If you can do better, then make it yourself instead of being so picky," Mrs. York retorted, visibly more pleased with Quintessa's demeanor than Tyrone's.

"There's more in the kitchen if you

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finish that," she told them, giving Quintessa a concerned once-over. "Let me tell you, girls, skinny isn't beautiful. Starving yourself can only bring trouble. Why suffer for others' opinions?"

Mrs. York's rambling concerns overwhelmed Quintessa. Her tears broke free, and suddenly, she put

down her fork and abruptly said, "I'm sorry, I have something urgent. I have to go."

She ran out of the York family home without her bag, leaving Mrs. York puzzled, "What happened?"

Realizing something was wrong, Tyrone said, "I'll go check."