"The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new." - Socrates

  Katerina

  The morning had been fantastic, a surge of energy propelling me through the day. I felt invigorated, having closed two major accounts for my party planning business—an engagement party at a stunning vineyard, the scent of ripening grapes and promise of laughter still clinging to my imagination, and a whimsical baby shower at a botanical garden, where delicate blooms and pastel ribbons had danced in the soft light. Now, with the afternoon stretching before me, a sense of accomplishment settled alongside the flutter of anticipation for Thursday. I found myself on the familiar, tree-lined street to Grandma Elena's, a perfect way to ground myself after a whirlwind day.

  Her house was a haven, the warm, yeasty scent of baking bread mingling with the comforting strains of old Italian songs. Parking, I felt a wave of familiar warmth—home, in its truest form.

  The door swung open, Grandma Elena beaming, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Katerina, Tesoro! You're here!" Her voice, though softened by time, still held a vibrant energy, pulling me into a hug that smelled of lavender and warmth.

  "Hi, Grandma," I smiled, the tension of the day melting away. "Afternoon free, so I visited."

  "Perfect!" she exclaimed, ushering me into the cozy kitchen. "Fresh biscotti! Taste-tester needed, and you have impeccable taste."

  The house was a cozy symphony: worn wooden furniture, each piece whispering stories of generations past; framed family photos, capturing moments of laughter and love; overflowing bookshelves, promising endless adventures; and the ever-present, comforting aroma of something delicious simmering on the stove.

  At the kitchen table, the golden-brown biscotti between us, I relaxed, the world outside fading away. Grandma Elena had a knack for seeing straight to my soul, for reminding me of the simple joys in life.

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  "So," she twinkled, her eyes filled with a knowing warmth, "anything exciting?"

  I hesitated, a blush warming my cheeks, then confided. "Meeting someone for coffee Thursday. Phoebe's brother, Ethan."

  "Ethan Maxwell? The CEO?" she asked, eyes widening slightly, a flicker of surprise in her gaze.

  I nodded, surprised she knew.

  "Charming," she said thoughtfully, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Successful. But, Tesoro, remember, happiness is a garden you cultivate within. Don't let anyone else be the gardener."

  "I know, Grandma," I squeezed her hand, a wave of affection washing over me. "Just curious."

  We settled into a comfortable rhythm, lunching on Grandma Elena's homemade pasta, the rich tomato sauce a taste of pure comfort, and laughing over stories from her youth, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The afternoon drifted by, filled with the comforting nostalgia of old movies, "Gone with the Wind" flickering across the screen, its sweeping romance a familiar balm to the soul.

  As dusk painted the sky in hues of lavender and gold, I hugged Grandma Elena goodbye, the warmth of her embrace lingering like a gentle blessing as I drove home. Stepping into my quiet house, a familiar sense of peace settled over me, a sigh escaping my lips. Max, my golden retriever, greeted me with enthusiastic tail wags and happy barks, his warm, furry body a comforting presence.

  "Alright, buddy," I chuckled, grabbing his leash. "Let's get you outside."

  The cool evening air was refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves as we played fetch in the backyard, Max's joyful energy a perfect counterpoint to the day's quiet moments. After a few rounds, we headed back inside, Max settling contentedly at my feet as I showered, the warm water washing away the last vestiges of the day.

  Wrapped in a soft robe, I curled up in bed with my well-worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice," the familiar story a comforting companion. Just as I was getting lost in the witty repartee between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan: "What are you up to?"

  "Reading," I replied, a soft smile tugging at my lips.

  "Read to me?" he asked a hint of playful vulnerability in his message, a quiet longing that resonated with my own.

  Intrigued, I agreed. I dialed his number, and after a brief greeting, I began to read aloud, my voice soft and soothing, weaving the elegant prose into a tapestry of images and emotions. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife..." The familiar words flowed easily, the story weaving a delicate thread of connection between us, a shared intimacy that felt both unexpected and comforting. The silence on the other end was filled with a quiet attentiveness, a sense of shared presence that transcended the distance between us. I could almost feel his breath, his quiet concentration as he listened.

  As I finished a particularly poignant passage, a comfortable silence settled between us, a sense of shared warmth filling the space between the words. "Goodnight, Ethan," I whispered, a warmth spreading through me, a feeling of connection that lingered in the quiet air.

  "Goodnight, Katerina," he replied, his voice soft, a hint of something deeper in his tone. "Thank you. That was…lovely."

  I hung up, a lingering sense of connection filling the room, a gentle warmth spreading through my chest. With a contented sigh, I turned off the light, the story echoing in my mind.