"I'm sorry, boys," she mumbled, voice still rough with sleep. "Give me a minute, okay?"
Appeased, the cats accepted this promise of forthcoming food with surprising grace. Mozart's tail curled into a question mark as he trotted off to the kitchen, while Bach let out one final meow of protest before following his brother.
Mandy tested her limits, stretching cautiously. Her back twinged but didn't seize - good, though she could feel the bad pain lurking, waiting for one wrong move to pounce.
She found her slippers, steadied herself against the nightstand, and made her careful way to the bathroom. The warm water against her face usually cleared the morning fog, but today something in the mirror caught her eye.
The pendant.
It hung there against her chest, its surface shifting with those mesmerizing patterns she'd noticed yesterday. Yesterday. When it had summoned a Djinn prince into her living room. When she'd learned magic was real. When she'd been granted three wishes.
Her knees buckled, and she quickly sat on the edge of the tub. The evidence hung right there around her neck, warm and real and rather terrifying in its implications - this wasn't a dream or medication-induced hallucination. A real Djinn prince had granted her wishes, and that reality was both wondrous, and absolutely terrifying in its implications. Everything she thought she knew about the world, about what was possible and impossible, had shattered in a single afternoon.
Mandy closed her eyes and told herself to breathe. Okay, so, maybe she really had met a nice lady named Jacinth in the hospital who had given Mandy the pendant, and the rest was a drug-induced hallucination. The pain medication they'd given her in the ER had been strong - strong enough to make her float away on clouds of cotton wool. That had to be it.
She stood and pulled her robe off the back of the bathroom door, wrapping the soft fleece around herself like armor against reality. Her slippers whispered against the carpet as she made her way into the living room.
Her gaze went straight to the small, lovely table there before her recliner. The delicate piece with its ornately carved legs and inlaid top stood exactly where Kieran had conjured it to put tea on. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She hadn't owned anything remotely like that before yesterday.
Turning slowly, she looked toward the kitchen. There in the dish drainer sat her skillet and large sauce pan, along with the various utensils used to make the spaghetti sauce. On the counter was the silvery bag that held the remains of the loafof garlic bread. She opened the refrigerator, seeing the two Tupperware containers with the pasta and sauce.
Okay, not a hallucination.
A demanding squawk from Bach snapped Mandy out of her daze. Right. Breakfast for the boys first, existential crisis about magic later. Both cats raced ahead of her to the kitchen, tails held high like exclamation points. Their synchronized dance of anticipation began - weaving between her feet, chirping and meowing as if she might somehow forget where their food bowls lived.
"Yes, yes, I know. You're starving." Mandy smiled despite herself. The familiar morning routine helped settle her nerves.
She opened the cabinet where she kept their food, and both cats immediately started rubbing against her legs, purring so loudly she could feel the vibrations through her slippers. The cabinet held neat rows of canned food - she believed in variety, rotating between different flavors and brands to keep them from getting bored.
"Let's see... salmon yesterday, so how about..." She selected a can of chicken and tuna pate. The pop of the can opener sent both cats into a frenzy of excitement.
"Patience is a virtue, boys." She divided the food between their bowls, adding a splash of water to each as she always did. The cats wound around her ankles, nearly tripping her as she carried their bowls to their usual spot.
"Okay, okay!" She set the bowls down carefully. "There you go."
Both cats dove into their breakfast with characteristic enthusiasm. Mandy watched them for a moment, smiling at their single-minded focus. At least some things remained blessedly normal.
Her own stomach rumbled, reminding her that she needed sustenance too. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out theorange juice, pouring herself a tall glass. The kitchen stool creaked slightly as she settled onto it, elbows resting on the cool granite of the island counter.
Mandy stared into her orange juice, watching condensation bead on the outside of the glass. The pendant's warmth pulsed steadily against her chest, its rhythmic presence impossible to ignore. Magic.
Joy exploded through her chest like fireworks. Magic existed! Not just in books or movies or her imagination, but right here in her living room. In her life! She wanted to jump up and dance, to throw open her windows and shout it to the whole neighborhood. To grab random strangers on the street and tell them that everything they'd ever dreamed about was possible.
"Magic!" She flung her arms wide, nearly knocking over her orange juice. "Real, honest-to-goodness magic!"
Mozart and Bach paused in their breakfast, lifting their heads to stare at her with matching expressions of feline concern. Their whiskers twitched as they assessed their human's apparent mental breakdown. After a moment's consideration, they apparently decided food was more important than her strange behavior and returned to their bowls.
Mandy couldn't stop laughing. Tears streamed down her face as years of writing about magic, dreaming about magic, wishing for magic crystallized into this one perfect moment of pure joy. All those times she'd gazed at the stars and wished for something more, something wonderful and extraordinary - and now here it was, hanging around her neck in the form of a mystical pendant given to her by a mischievous Djinn.
Her laughter finally subsided into occasional hiccups. The joy remained though, bubbling just beneath the surface like champagne. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this light, this... happy.
Her thoughts drifted to Jacinth, with her musical laugh and those fascinating dimples. The way she'd moved around Mandy's kitchen last night as if they'd been friends for years, not hours. How easily conversation had flowed between them, ranging from family to writing to the nature of inspiration.
Warmth spread through Mandy's chest that had nothing to do with the pendant. When was the last time she'd connected with someone like that? Sure, she had plenty of acquaintances - other writers she chatted with online, neighbors she waved to, the friendly staff at her favorite diner. But a real friend? Someone to share life's ups and downs with, to call just because, to spend lazy afternoons watching movies and sharing secrets?
Jacinth's face appeared in her mind - those expressive dark eyes sparkling with mischief, that infectious smile that made everyone around her want to smile too. Her genuine interest in Mandy's writing, her playful teasing about character inspiration. The way she'd known exactly when to push and when to back off during their conversation. And she'd shared with Mandy about her own life, too. What a wonderful friend she would make!
The wishes suddenly seemed almost secondary. What was the power to change things compared to having someone like Jacinth in her life? A true friend who understood both the mundane and magical aspects of life. Someone who could appreciate both the struggle of writing dialogue, and the wonder of magical beings learning to use TikTok.
