The car slowed, and the dense forest gave way to a clearing. A pristine lake shimmered in the sunlight, surrounded by wildflowers and tall pines. A cabin, rustic yet warm, sat tucked into the edge of the water. My breath caught. Then, waving from the porch, were the couple. They were older, faces lined with years, but eyes bright, alive. The woman had a mischievous sparkle in her gaze, the kind that made you immediately trust her.
"January! Stop the presses! The unflappable, always-serious lawyer walks among us mortals, and she brought a beautiful guest!"
January's lips twitched. "Hi Margot!"
Margot winked at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling. I extended my hand.
"Oh, honey, come here. Janny already told me so much about you."
Before I could even blink, I was enveloped in a hug that smelled like cinnamon and laundry detergent, "Darling, you're stunning, but your posture is screaming'canceled Netflix drama.'Don't panic. Auntie Margot is here with the holy trinity: posture, sparkle, and the art of a well-timed hair flip."
January sighed, though the corners of her mouth twitched. "Margot—"
"No, don't 'Margot' me," she shot back, wagging a finger like she was cross-examining the universe itself. "I refuse to let this poor child walk around radiating'tragic indie movie heroine who stares out of rainy windows for fun.'"
Behind her a tall older man came out offering his hand and said "Maybe she just needs some rest. Welcome my dear."
"Rest? REST?!" Margot threw her hands in the air. "Sweetheart, rest is what you do after a Pilates class. This is a full-scale reclamation project. We're talking posture correction, aura repair, and at least three twirls in front of a mirror with dramatic background music. Billy, take notes."
Billy didn't move. "I don't take notes."
"You see what I have to live with?" Margot demanded, half to me, half to the heavens. Then, leaning in with mock severity, she tapped my arm. "Now. Shoulders back, chin up, and if anyone asks what you're doing, just say you're channeling Margot's patented 'walk into the room like you own the mortgage' energy. Trust me. Works every time."
I was shocked but January finally broke, her laugh bubbling out despite herself. "You are unbelievable."
Margot beamed, satisfied. "Correct. And fabulous. Both can be true." She then wagged a finger at January, "Step aside, counselor. This season onReal Housewives of Lakeside Cabins, December stars as my new best friend, and you're the boring side character we cut in episode two."
January sighed, resigned. " Just... go with it Dec."
Margot gave my arm a ceremonious squeeze. "By the power vested in me, I now declare us best friends. Come on in before I start charging rent." Looping her arm through Billy's, she swept us all inside like it was a royal procession.
I turned to January, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Who are they?"
For the first time, her expression wasn't carved from stone. It softened, almost hesitant, like a secret she'd locked away too long. Her smile wavered, tender and fragile, and it ached to see her like that.
"They're my guardian angels," she whispered, each word falling like a prayer she had carried too long. "The hands that held me steady when the world spun out of control, the voices that pulled me back when I was ready to disappear." Her breath trembled, and her eyes stayed fixed on mine, unflinching, raw. "..and I pray they'll become yours too, Dec. Because you deserve safety. You deserve to be held, to be protected, to be cherished."
Chapter 12: The Alchemy of Pressure
It had been almost two weeks. Two weeks of Margot's voice filling the cabin like a one-woman radio show, and Billy's quiet gestures anchoring the silence in between. They didn't ask questions. They didn't push. Instead, they folded me into their routines the way you might slip a new thread into an old quilt, without fuss, without forcing it.
Margot was loud, hilarious, and constantly dramatic in the best possible way. Every morning she'd narrate her coffee-making as if it were a cooking show, complete with applause sound effects and fake commercials.
"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to another thrilling episode ofMargot Makes Magic with Beans and Boiling Water!" she'd announce, waving a spoon like a microphone. If Billy rolled his eyes, she'd gasp like he'd just committed treason against art.
Billy, by contrast, hardly said a word before noon, but his quietness was never cold. He left steaming cups of tea on the table, slid a plate of toast toward me when I forgot to eat, stirred soup while humming under his breath. His humor came in small, dry comments that slipped in between Margot's theatrics like secret punchlines only the three of us were in on.
One morning, when Margot declared her coffee "a triumph of modern science," Billy muttered, without looking up from buttering bread, "Truly groundbreaking, water meets beans, history is made." Margot swatted him with a dish towel, laughing so hard she nearly spilled her mug.
It was like that all the time: their bickering laced with affection, their teasing never sharp, always soft around the edges. Theybalanced each other, her fireworks with his steady flame, and somehow they drew me into the orbit without me even noticing.
By the third day, Margot was shoving a whisk into my hand with a dramatic, "Here, darling, you must earn your keep! Whip like your life depends on it!" while Billy set out bowls with a faint smile, as though he knew I'd play along. By the seventh, I found myself arguing with her about whether toast qualified as a meal, laughing so hard my sides ached. By the tenth, Billy handed me a cup of tea just the way I liked it, no words, no asking—just knowing.
Somewhere in those days, the tension I'd been carrying like a second skin began to soften. The cabin felt less like a place I was hiding in and more like a place I belonged to. Their laughter wrapped around me like a blanket, their routines gave me something to lean into.
I even picked up a book again—fantasy, of all things. I don't know why exactly, except maybe it felt safer to get lost in worlds with dragons and magic than to sit too long in my own. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest way to cope with a breakup, but it wasn't the worst either. Between the pages, kingdoms rose and fell, quests were won and lost, and people like me—people who didn't feel strong enough—somehow became heroes. Escaping into that made breathing a little easier.
Then there was Margot, twirling around the kitchen with a wooden spoon like she was auditioning for the opera, her voice cracking on the high notes, while Billy muttered something about needing earplugs but couldn't hide his smile. Watching them bicker and banter, I realized I wasn't just surviving here. For the first time in a long time, I felt... welcomed. Safe. At peace.
