CHAPTER 230: Daily Routine

CHAPTER 230: Daily Routine

Nine months had passed since Enid's funeral.
The date was September 18, 2013.

Thanks to Joe's contacts, everything had been carefully buried. New identities, clean records, and silence bought in the right places. Fenix and Selene now lived in Munich, in a three-room apartment, bright, in a quiet neighborhood with more than decent quality of life. Nothing luxurious, but stable. Safe.

Selene had gotten a job at a neighborhood supermarket, as a cashier. It was not the job of her life, but it gave her something she needed: routine.

It was mid-afternoon. The supermarket was almost empty.

A woman of about eighty-five, hunched but steady, advanced slowly to Selene's checkout. She placed her purchases carefully: bread, milk, a little fruit, rice, and a can of soup.

—Good afternoon, dear —the old woman said with a kind smile.

—Good afternoon —Selene replied, passing the products through the scanner.

The woman opened her purse and began taking out coins. Many coins.

She placed them one by one on the counter.

—Let's see… fifty… sixty… seventy… —she murmured.

Selene glanced at the register clock. There was no line, but the process was eternal.

—Don't worry, take your time —she said, though her tone was already starting to tense a little.

—It's just that today I have to adjust carefully —the woman replied—. The pension doesn't stretch like it used to, you know? Before, everything was different.

Selene forced a slight smile.

The old woman kept counting… and then began to talk.

—I worked forty years in a textile factory. My husband was a railway worker. He died fifteen years ago… poor man, he never got used to retirement.

Selene nodded without saying anything, now moving to collect the coins already counted.

—We had three children. Two went to live far away… they barely call. The third… well, that one gives me more headaches than joys.

—Uh-huh… —Selene replied, mechanically.

The woman sighed.

—Today's youth don't know what it is to sacrifice. Everything fast, everything easy… it wasn't like that before.

Selene clenched her jaw a little.

—It's 6.80 euros, ma'am —she said, trying to close the transaction.

—Yes, yes, I'm coming… —the old woman replied, rummaging in her purse again—. Did I tell you I met my husband at a train station?

Selene breathed deeply.

—No, not yet —she said, with a clearly forced smile.

—It was in '52… it was raining so much…

Selene rested her hands on the counter for a second, looking into the void, clearly fed up, though trying to maintain her composure.

Finally, the old woman gathered the exact money and pushed it toward her.

—Here it is. Thank you for listening to me, dear. Today I barely talked to anyone.

Selene took the money, handed her the receipt, and looked her in the eyes.

—Have a good day —she said, this time with a slightly more sincere tone.

—Same to you, sweetheart.

The woman walked away slowly with her bag.

When she disappeared through the automatic door, Selene let out the air she had been holding.

—Unbelievable… —she murmured to herself—. I need a coffee urgently.

The beep of the register announced the next customer, and Selene put her routine mask back on, while in her mind, for a second, she wished she were anywhere else.

Hours later, well into the night, Selene arrived at the apartment.

She closed the door carefully and left the keys on the small entryway cabinet. The smell of hot food floated in the air, mixed with soft spices and something baked. From the kitchen came the sound of dishes and the extractor fan.

—Fenix? —she called as she took off her jacket.

—In the kitchen —he replied in a calm voice.

Selene advanced and found him in front of the stove, in a simple t-shirt and with the apron on. The counter was clean, the dishes orderly, and the trash already prepared by the door to be taken out later. Fenix moved naturally, as if that role had always belonged to him.

On the table, near the window, was Lucian in his turtle form, settled inside a box adapted with a small blanket and a heat lamp.

—I see the man of the house is still keeping up —Selene said, leaning against the doorframe.

Fenix smiled sideways.

—Someone has to keep this place standing. Besides, cooking helps me think… or not think too much.

—That sounds dangerously healthy —she replied—. What did you make for dinner?

Fenix lifted the lid of a pot.

—Pasta with homemade sauce, sautéed vegetables, and a little chicken. Nothing complicated, but it fills the stomach.

Selene nodded, sincerely relieved.

—After the day I had, eating anything hot is already a miracle.

Lucian raised his head a little from his box.

—It smells better than most of the banquets I saw over centuries —he remarked in a grave voice—. I admit it.

Fenix looked toward him.

—Coming from someone who lived in castles, I'll take that as a compliment.

—It is —Lucian replied—. Although I still don't understand how I ended up sharing an apartment with a lycan who cooks better than many human chefs.

Selene sat at the table and let out a long sigh.

—Today a woman told me her entire life while paying with coins —she said—. Cent by cent.

Fenix served the plates calmly.

—That's also part of starting over —he remarked—. Small lives, small problems… compared to what we left behind.

Selene looked at him a second longer than usual, noticing the silent tiredness on his face.

—Thanks for dinner —she said finally.

Fenix placed the plate in front of her.

Selene twirled her fork a couple of times before bringing the food to her mouth and, without raising her gaze too much, asked:

—And you? What did you do today?

Fenix took a second before answering. He chewed calmly and rested his elbow on the table.