6

  The final bell rang with its usual mix of relief and routine. Students poured out of cssrooms, some lingering to talk, others rushing home. Finn and Maxi walked together through the school gate, the afternoon sun hanging warm and unhurried in the sky.

  They took the familiar route to the market—past the small bakery with sweet bread smells, past the corner store run by the old man who always waved, and finally toward the busy heart of the marketpce. Noise grew with every step: vendors calling out prices, scooters weaving through narrow nes, the leveling scent of grilled meat and fried onions drifting through the air.

  Their father’s stall sat at the far edge, small but sturdy, with a bright blue tarp for shade and a handwritten menu board. Their father, still wearing his faded apron, greeted them with a warm grin.

  “You’re just in time,” he said, stirring a sizzling pan. “Afternoon rush is starting.”

  Nini—Aunt Nins to everyone—was already at the front, wiping tables and handing out orders. She was small and lively, with a voice louder than everyone else in the stall combined. “There you two are! Go wash your hands! Let’s move, lunchtime isn’t done yet.”

  Maxi jumped in with the energy of someone who enjoyed the bustling chaos. Finn followed, tying on his apron. Soon, the family rhythm took over—Finn calling out orders, Maxi handing drinks, Nini greeting customers with friendly teasing, and their father expertly cooking dish after dish.

  When an online order notification chimed, Finn grabbed the scooter keys.

  “I’ll deliver this one,” he said.

  “Careful,” his father reminded—though Finn had been doing this for years already.

  After weaving through the familiar streets and returning the scooter, Finn rejoined the stall. By early evening, the crowd slowed, leaving only a few passing customers.

  That was when the books came out.

  Finn spread his notebook across the counter, his handwriting neat and organized. Maxi sat beside him, less focused but trying his best. Sometimes Nini hovered to check their answers, ciming she didn’t know much—but somehow always understanding exactly what they were struggling with. Their father chimed in with odd bits of wisdom, though math was never his specialty.

  Their mother wouldn’t be home until te—her shift at the city hospital was long and exhausting, helping those who had nowhere else to go. Finn admired her deeply for it. He admired both his parents—they worked hard, never compined, and taught by example.

  As the sky shifted to deep orange, they began closing up. Tables were stacked, grill cleaned, ingredients packed away. Finn took down the tarp while Maxi swept the ground. Their father locked up the stall, pressing a tired but happy hand onto each of their shoulders.

  “Good work today.”

  They walked home together through the cooling evening air.

  And though Finn’s body felt sore, his mind drifted—to Alice, the mysterious ring, and the quiet sense that his life, busy and steady as it was, was slowly, quietly changing.