The next day, Myra woke up earlier than usual and completed all her daily chores, not giving her aunt, or anyone else, a chance to scold or complain about anything.
The weather was partially cloudy, with a high chance of rain later in the evening, just like the day before.
Not wanting to take any chances with the changing weather, Myra decided to get the laundry done as soon as the family finished their breakfast.
Ravin Brooke sat at the head of the table, his wife Lyla to his left and their son Peter to his right. April was missing; she hadn't woken up yet. Myra, on the other hand, was never allowed to sit with the family.
She always ate her leftover share alone in the kitchen after they were done, but she never complained. She preferred the peace and quiet of eating alone to sitting with her snarky relatives.
Once the family finished eating, Myra quickly did the dishes and was having a bowl of oatmeal with milk when Pete walked into the kitchen.
"Hey, Myra!" he said, hopping onto the kitchen cabinet.
"Hi, Pete"
"Don't you have any classes today?" Myra asked, playing with her spoon.
Peter shook his head, "Nay. My tutor has some personal work to take care of, so he won't be coming today."
"Oh!" she exclaimed. She was about to ask about his plans when the village tower bell rang ten times in succession, signaling that it was ten in the morning.
Cursing herself, Myra hurriedly finished her oats and prepared a breakfast tray for April, who had asked to be served in bed.
"Why are you suddenly in a hurry?" Pete asked, hopping off the cabinet to stand behind her.
"There are loads of dirty clothes that need to be washed, Pete. The sooner I wash them, the faster they'll dry. I can't risk waiting until later with the rain coming. I also have to do some grocery shopping. No time, buddy!"
"Can I come along?" Pete asked, excitement lighting up his face. "Please!"
"No Peter, your mother wouldn't like it".
"Please, Myra," he pleaded again. "We don't have to tell her. I'll just say I'm going out to play with my friends. She'll let me since I don't have any classes today."
Myra stayed silent for a moment, internally debating whether to take Pete along with her or not.
Little Pete, who was now standing in front of her, eagerly waiting for her response, gave her a cute puppy dog expression as if asking her to agree with his suggestion. He even blinked his eyes a couple of times to add more effect. Finally, Myra gave in, not wanting to disappoint the kid.
"Okay, fine. You can come along—but only if you promise to behave and not cause any trouble."
Grinning triumphantly, Pete nodded. "I promise! I'll be a good boy."
"Go on, then. Inform your mum while I take this to your sister," Myra said, lifting April's breakfast tray.
"Okay! I'll wait for you outside," Pete called as he dashed off.
Myra made her way to April's room and knocked lightly before stepping in after hearing a "come in."
The room was dimly lit, and April was still in bed. "Morning! Here's your breakfast," Myra said cheerfully, placing the tray on the bedside table. April merely grunted in response.
Myra opened the curtains to let in some light, then gathered April's unwashed clothes from the usual basket and quietly left the room.
As promised, Pete was waiting outside, and the two headed to the nearby river together.
When they arrived, Myra tightly held Pete's hand and helped him sit on one of the big rocks a little away from the riverbank.
"Pete, stay put. Don't come near the water," she warned.
The river level was high, and the water was icy cold. Even the soil by the riverbank had loosened from the rain, making it dangerously slippery.
Peter getting too close to the banks and slipping or hurting himself was the last thing she wanted. If anything happened to him while he was with her, her aunt and uncle would be furious.
Carefully, Myra made her way to the river, planting her right foot firmly between some rocks for grip while dipping her left leg in the water.
Bending down, she soaped each piece of clothing inside and out, then started beating them one by one with the washing paddle. Pete kept her company with his chatter.
"Myra, did you know our Arcardian land is the largest among the five lands, with a really diverse population?" Pete asked out of nowhere.
Myra shook her head. "Is it?"
"Yes, it is!" he said, tossing small pebbles into the river and watching the ripples. "My tutor even said our Arcardian lord is really young—and cold-hearted."
Even Myra had heard about the Lord, who was a Trueborn demon, and that he had a reputation for snapping the heads of those who crossed him on the wrong paths. There were even rumors that he had killed his own father.
But to Myra, those were just baseless rumors. She didn't care about the Lord's character as long as he didn't trouble his people unnecessarily and ruled over the land fairly, just like he had been doing so far.
An hour later, Myra returned home. Peter met his best friend on the way, and they went off to play. She hung the neatly washed clothes outside to dry before heading in to prepare lunch.
Lyla was in the living room, knitting. She looked up as her niece walked in, holding the empty laundry basket.
"Where have you been?" she asked, even though she clearly knew.
"I was washing clothes, Aunt Lyla," Myra replied.
"What took you so long?"
Myra frowned, knowing perfectly well why her aunt was questioning her. Lyla wanted an excuse to scold her today.
"I'm sorry, Auntie," she said, bowing her head slightly.
There was no point in explaining herself in front of her aunt now. It would only create more trouble. Instead, she waited for her aunt to unleash her daily dose of hurtful words so that Myra could carry on with her work afterward.
"Do you think we're crazy for letting you stay with us, providing you shelter and food, while you go around slacking off?" Aunt Lyla's words pierced through Myra's heart, but she remained silent, knowing that any response would only make things worse.
"I would have been much happier if you'd died along with your parents. What a burden!" Aunt Lyla sighed, her words filled with bitterness. "Don't just stand there! Go and finish the rest of the work."
Myra mumbled, "Okay, Auntie," as she hurried into the kitchen, trying to push aside the hurtful remarks. She focused on her task of preparing lunch, seeking solace in the familiar routine of cooking.
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