Emilia led Freya toward the kitchen, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. The two women carried the basket of fresh apples Freya had brought, chatting lightly as they entered the bustling kitchen, which was already warm with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread.

Emilia placed the apples on the counter and rolled up her sleeves. “How about we make an apple pie?” she suggested with a smile. “The apples you brought look perfect.”

Freya’s face brightened. “I’d love that,” she said, her voice filled with genuine excitement. “I haven’t made apple pie in years.”

Emilia laughed, pulling out a knife to begin slicing the apples....