𝑳𝑨 𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬 𝑨𝑼𝑿 𝑭𝑳𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑺

୭̥⋆*｡✽ 𝐱𝐱𝐢.

Now, it's mission soup. My mother used to make it every time one of her kids was sick, which was pretty often considering there's three of us. One gets a cold, then recovers, but still passed it to the others. I know that recipe by heart now. Carrots, zucchini, potatoes, tomato, onion, pepper, salt, curry and turmeric powder, butter, crème fraiche... Okay, I've got everything. I peel all the vegetables, then cut them into chunks. Next is tossing everything in a pot and season. Then I let it cook, that's the longest part. I add when a few times, I'm making a soup, not a purée. When it's finally done, I mix it all together, add a bit of butter, season some more, and then we're down. I transfer food into Tupperware, get my things and leave.

The trip to Scarlett's isn't that bad, and I find myself in front of her building earlier than I thought I'd be. I go up and knock, and I hear the keys rustling behind the door, and before I knew it I was facing Scarlett. With a tired and crying Rose in her arms, she gives me a small smile as the relief finally washes over her and lets me in."Bonjour, bonjour." I say, holding up the paper bag with the food in it. (translation : hello, hello)

"Heyyyyy! Lita's here baby! Look!"

"Hey, sweet girl. I heard you were sick and made you some soup."

"Doesn't that sound yummy, Rose?" The younger girl just ended up burying her neck in her mother's chest. I could see her wiggle a bit to get comfy.

This kid is cute.

I drop my bag but the door and take off my shoes before walking further in the flat and into the kitchen. I set the paper bag with the soup container on the counter. I wash my hands before freeing Scarlett from Rose's grasp on her. We have our little moment, I can feel the heat radiate from her little body.

Poor thing.

We sit together at the dinner table, she wouldn't sit on her own, so she's sitting on my lap. We're facing Scarlett, who's holding a spoonful of soup in front of Rose. Rose, being the stubborn little girl she is, isn't having any of it. Turning her head away every time the spoon makes it into her eyesight is making it a real challenge to feed her.

"Come on, open... Rose, please. Just a little bit of soup and then mama will leave you alone." She whines and slumps her body against mine. Scarlett drops the spoon in the bowl, clearly giving up.

My turn to try, I guess.

"Here comes the quinjet." And that made her giggle. Jackpot. I use this to slowly slip the spoonful of soup in her mouth. She hums and swallows, allowing me to continue.

"I swear she likes you better than me. I've been replaced as favourite." When I look up to Scarlett, she doesn't look that very impressed. I just ignore her and continue to feed Rose until she empties half the soup and clearly is full and tells us she's sleepy.

"Let's get you in bed, little avenger." I lift her up by her armpit, wait for Scarlett, and we all walk to Rose's bedroom. I didn't take the time to look at her room the first time I was there. Her room is cute, very much to her image. There's one pink accent wall, the others are white, wooden furniture, a little bed in the corner of her room with a white mesh canopy over it. A real princess bed with purple bedsheets and loads of stuffed animals on her bed.

"Story?" She asks when she's all tucked in.

"Where's your book?" Scarlett points to her little shelf, where the copy of the little prince I had given her a few days before was. I grab the book and I take my seat back next to Scarlett on the bed. I open the book where we stopped and start reading.

The next day, the little prince came back.

"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites..."