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The following day dawned with a sluggish pace as if time itself conspired to prolong its arrival. Leah's mother, resolute in her desire to take charge of the lunch preparations, insisted on being the sole architect of the midday meal, refusing any assistance from Y/n.
In the kitchen, she busily assembled a delightful spread, crafting an assortment of sandwiches with meticulous care and conjuring a fragrant pot of Spanish rice that filled the air with its enticing aroma.
Within the cozy confines of the living room, Leah found herself seated on the plush carpet, engrossed in a collection of style impressions meticulously arranged across the coffee table.
Meanwhile, her father sought solace inside the parked car, reclining comfortably in the seat as he unwound from a strenuous day filled with virtual meetings for his job.
Y/n, having just emerged from a refreshing shower, descended the steps with damp tendrils of hair cascading over her shoulders. She donned loose-fitting attire, weariness evident in the way her clothing draped languidly across her fatigued frame.
Weary yet determined, she made her way toward the living room, drawn to the company of the family. Y/n had the privilege of being in control of her schedule, allowing her to prioritize therapy sessions and dedicate time to developing new recipes.
