Within The Bonds

70: Lemon Tart

"This is crazy! I used to do this every other day before and now I can barely make it look presentable," I muse out loud.

"How much have I changed since I got here?" Walking to the mirror, I look at myself and try to gauge the amount of change I've undergone since coming here.

"When was the last time I baked? Or did any chore around here?" But my mind fails at presenting me with an answer, that's when I realize the main cause behind everything.

"I'm not even myself anymore," I conclude in a whisper—sadness lancing my tone.

"I've become one of those pretty pink princesses!" Anger and realization weave themselves together, while I settle on a firm resolution.

"No more, little sad Astoria, no more damsel in distress, and most importantly no more bullshit!" I chastise myself, smacking the back of my head as a self-reminder.

This boost of newfound enthusiasm puts me in a mood to bake and so following my instinct, I jump to my feet to head downstairs. Just as I walk across my room, a glimmer catches my attention.

Following the gleam, my gaze lands on my desk on which sat the same locket Xavier handed to me the other day. Clasping in between my palm for a fleeting moment, I clasp it around my neck and push it under my shirt to conceal its identity and presence.

Not even a complete step out of my room and the two brick-wall makes known their appearance. "Did you need something Miss?" Victor takes the lead in asking.

"I'm just headed to the kitchen," I reply vaguely and resume my path towards said destination.

"Miss Santos! Good to see you, did you need anything?" Ms. Jonas enquires as soon as I set foot into the kitchen.

"Well, I do need the kitchen cleared if you don't mind," I say and without waiting for a response, I start to gather my ingredients.

"What for Miss? If there is anything specific you want to eat, I'll be more than happy to make it for you," she offers which I'm quick to decline.

"Nope, I'm fine."

I continue to ransack the cabinets and fridge until I have everything, I need...well almost everything. "Do we have any lemons?" I direct my question to Ms. Jonas who's standing all the way on the other side of the kitchen.

"Huh? Yes...of course. They're right there beside the fruit bowl," she points out. Following her pointed finger, I spot the plump citrus fruit.

"Thanks," I mumble and get back to work. Multitasking with a hand mixer in one hand and cracking opening some eggs with the other, I focus all my attention on my work and avoid it from wandering back to the lingering gazes I feel on me.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you, Miss," she offers once again and I'm yet against tempted to decline, but instead agree and the eggs over to her.

"What are you doing in here?" Jack's unmistakable voice that is always for some reason laced with a hint of annoyance rings in my ears grabbing my attention.

"What does it look like?" I counter, quirking a single brow.

"You're cooking?" He guesses in a bored tone.

"Nope," I reply continuing my work.

"What are the lemons for?" He continues to pester me, now leaning against the kitchen counter.

"You know Jack there's an old saying that; when life gives you lemons—"

"You make lemonade," he adds cutting me off. "So, you're making lemonade?" He questions eyeing the bowl of dough I'm busy kneading.