The kitchen was a symphony of domestic bliss when they entered. Linda had outdone herself—fluffy pancakes stacked like golden towers, crispy bacon arranged in perfect rows, scrambled eggs that looked like clouds, and yes, those tiny sausages that did indeed look like miniature logs. The dining table was set with her best china, complete with cloth napkins and fresh flowers.
"Finally!" Linda beamed, wiping her hands on her apron. "I was starting to think you'd all gone back to sleep."
"Just needed a few more minutes to... process the morning," Samantha said carefully, sliding into her usual seat from years past. The familiarity of it hit her like a wave—how many times had she sat in this exact spot? The last time, she was worrying about hiding her vampire nature from her mother.
