Chapter 8

Morning sunlight streamed through the window as Emily Johnson opened her eyes, finding herself still lying in the adobe house.

She sat up abruptly and pinched her arm—ouch!

"I really didn't go back..." she murmured, staring at her rough hands.

In the kitchen, Emily fumbled with lighting the fire. The kettle bubbled as she tossed a few eggs into the pot.

"Mom..."

Two little boys stood at the door, already dressed. David held Tommy's hand, their clothes slightly crooked but at least properly worn.

"Go wash your hands," Emily said without looking up.

The table was set with steaming milk, eggs, and leftover chicken from last night. The boys' eyes widened.

"Mom, you should have the powdered milk..." David said hesitantly.

"It's about to expire. Drink it all," Emily insisted firmly.

No way was she the type to sacrifice herself. Good things should be shared—why should adults always give way to kids?

"What's 'expire'?" Tommy tilted his head.

"It means... it'll go bad," Emily struggled to explain. "Like... when bread gets moldy after sitting too long. If you eat it, your stomach will hurt."

The boys nodded vaguely and sipped their milk carefully.

"David, we're going to pick vegetables later," Emily announced suddenly.

She needed to get familiar with this household. The original owner's memories were like a fragmented film, with crucial scenes always blurry.

"Okay!" David answered brightly, though his eyes lingered on his new shoes.

Before leaving, the boys insisted on changing into their old clothes. Emily rummaged through the chest but only found a few patched-up cotton jackets.

"Wear these," she pointed to the new outfits they already had on. "Let's go."

Walking along the country path, Emily tried identifying the crops in the fields. Eggplants? Potatoes? Were they in season?

"Mom, lock the door," David reminded her.

Emily scrambled for the key, finally managing to lock up—only to realize she'd forgotten the vegetable basket. Luckily, David was quick-witted and grabbed a bamboo basket from behind the door.

"Mom..." David hesitated.

They hadn't gone far when a group of children surrounded them.

"Wow! New clothes!" a girl with braids exclaimed.

David immediately puffed out his chest. "My mom made them!"

Tommy eagerly lifted his foot to show off his new cotton shoes. "So warm!"

Emily watched the group of thin, sallow-faced children. Their ill-fitting old clothes hung loosely, some wearing straw sandals, their fingers red from the cold.

"David's mom is so nice..." the children murmured enviously.

Then a shrill voice cut through:

"Liar! She was hitting you just days ago!"

Emily's heart skipped a beat. A tall, skinny boy stood at the edge of the crowd, a malicious grin on his face.

The air froze instantly.