After everyone settled inside the house, it came alive with the warmth of laughter—Jia and Grandmother heading toward the kitchen, their voices filling the air, while Devon and Grandfather bonded over a friendly card game.
In addition, the comforting aroma of simmering broth, seemed to momentarily mask the tension that had quietly brewed between Jia and Devon earlier.
The table in the dining area was covered with an assortment of ingredients: thinly sliced meats, vibrant greens, tofu, mushrooms, and an array of dipping sauces.
Bowls and chopsticks were neatly placed in front of each seat, and the steamy broth in the center bubbled invitingly.
Grandma moved briskly, ladling broth into the pot with a rhythm that spoke of years of experience, while Grandpa carefully arranged extra bowls on the table, his hands steady and deliberate.
Meanwhile, Devon hovered over the table, his brow furrowed as he inspected the colorful array of vegetables Grandma had skillfully chopped, his expression full of quiet skepticism.
"Do we really have to eat all this green stuff?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
"Yes," Grandma said firmly, her voice tinged with amusement. "It's good for you. And besides, tonight isn't about being picky—it's about celebrating your sister."
At that, all eyes turned to me. I felt my cheeks heat up under the attention and waved my hands in mock protest. "Okay, okay, let's not make this too big of a deal."
"Too late for that," Jia teased, sliding into her seat with a grin. "District champion deserves a celebration, don't you think?"
Before I could respond, Devon chimed in, his voice loud and theatrical. "A toast! To Taryn, who actually managed to beat the odds and bring home the gold."
"Devon," I groaned, burying my face in my hands as the rest of the family burst into laughter.
"Don't be shy," Grandpa said, his eyes twinkling. "What you accomplished today is something to be proud of. First place in the districts isn't just any old achievement—it's a testament to your hard work and determination."
Jia nodded in agreement, reaching for the ladle. "You were incredible out there, Taryn. Honestly, watching you race was like watching poetry in motion."
"Now you're just being dramatic," I said, though a small smile tugged at my lips.
"She's not wrong," Grandma added, her tone warm. "I'm so proud of you, dear. And I know your parents would be, too."
The mention of Mom and Dad brought a brief, bittersweet pause to the conversation. They weren't with us, Do they even know ?, their presence was never felt in moments like these. I glanced down at the medal hanging around my neck.
"Thanks," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "It means a lot to hear you all say that."
The mood brightened again as Grandma began piling ingredients into the hot pot, the simmering broth releasing a rich, savory aroma. Everyone started digging in, the table filling with the sounds of clinking chopsticks and satisfied murmurs.
Devon, predictably, avoided most of the vegetables, earning a disapproving look from Grandma. "Fine, I'll eat one piece of broccoli," he said, holding it up like it was some kind of foreign object.
"Make it two," Grandma replied with a grin, and we all laughed as Devon sighed dramatically and complied.
As the meal went on, the conversation turned to lighter topics—school, favorite foods, and funny memories. But it was Jia who brought up the Eclipse Shift again, her tone full of quiet excitement.
"So, did you guys see any updates about the Eclipse Shift?" she asked, glancing around the table. "NovaSphere is still buzzing about it. I think the night after 5 days from now is going to be something really special."
Devon groaned, his mouth full of noodles. "Not this again," he said, swallowing before continuing. "I already told you, it's fake. There's no way a lunar eclipse can mess with time."
"But what if it's not fake?" Jia countered, leaning forward slightly. "What if it's real, and we get to witness something no one has ever seen before? Wouldn't that be amazing?"
Grandpa chuckled, shaking his head. "You two sound like a pair of old philosophers debating the meaning of the universe. Let's agree to disagree for tonight, shall we?"
"Fine," Devon said, though he shot Jia a smug look as if declaring victory.
Jia rolled her eyes but didn't argue further, turning her attention back to the steaming pot. I stayed quiet, my thoughts drifting.
The Eclipse Shift had seemed like an odd bit of internet hype earlier, but the more Jia talked about it, the more I found myself wondering. What if it really was as extraordinary as she believed?
When dinner was finally over and the night deepened, everyone was settling into their routines—Grandpa and Grandma in the living room for a card game, Jia scrolling on her phone, and Devon attempting to conquer some impossible level on a mobile game.
I excused myself, saying I was tired, though that wasn't entirely true. The day's events had left a set of emotions tangled inside, and I needed time to sort through them. I climbed the creaking wooden stairs to my room. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, painting soft streaks of silver across the floor.
I closed the door behind me, sinking onto the edge of the bed. The bouquet Jia had handed me after the race was resting on the nightstand, its strange, vibrant flowers casting faint shadows in the dim light. I reached for it, running my fingers along the delicate petals. Something about it still felt odd, almost too intentional, like it had been chosen for a reason I wasn't supposed to understand.
The day played back in my mind like a film reel. The way Grandma's voice had quivered with pride when she said, "I'm so proud of you, dear. And I know your parents would be, too."
The way Grandpa had smiled, his usually reserved demeanor cracking just enough to show genuine warmth. Jia's encouraging words, her enthusiasm bubbling over like she couldn't hold it in. Even Devon had gone out of his way to celebrate me, which was almost unheard of.
It was all so…uncharacteristic.
I leaned back, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling. None of them had ever acted like this before—not about me, anyway.
Grandma and Grandpa had always been supportive in their own quiet way, but they'd never been this openly proud.
Jia was usually focused on her own goals, and Devon loved to tease more than he praised. So why now? What was different?
It hit me then, a thought I hadn't allowed myself to consider before. What if this wasn't just about my win? What if they wanted something from me?
The idea gnawed at the edges of my mind, refusing to be dismissed. Jia had always been the golden child, the one who seemed to know exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Devon, despite his playful attitude, had his own way of standing out.
Me? I'd always been stuck in between, unsure of where I fit in. But today, for the first time, I'd been in the spotlight. Was that what they wanted—to shape me into something, to fit me into a role I hadn't even realized was vacant?
Grandma's words echoed in my head: "I know your parents would be, too." My parents. Divorced, distant, and yet always there in the background, their expectations casting long shadows over my decisions. They hadn't come to the race—not that I'd expected them to—but their absence had been a reminder of the complicated web of relationships I was caught in.
Was this their doing? Had they asked Grandma and Grandpa to push me in a certain direction? Were Jia and Devon in on it, too, acting like the perfect siblings to sway me?
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts. It felt absurd, like some far-fetched conspiracy I'd dreamed up in the haze of an exhausting day. And yet, the feeling lingered—a sense that the celebration, the smiles, the toasts, had all been too perfect, too coordinated. As if it were all part of some unspoken plan.
The bouquet on the nightstand seemed to taunt me with its mysterious significance. Jia had handed it to me with such intention, as if it were more than just a congratulatory gesture. Was it a symbol? A message? Or was I reading too much into everything, letting my own insecurities cloud my judgment?
I sighed, lying back against the pillows. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant murmur of voices from downstairs.
For now, though, I let the thought linger, sleep began to tug at the edges of my consciousness, I clung to one truth: whatever was happening, whatever they wanted, I needed to figure it out.