The hot, scorching sun slapped against Ariana’s cheek as she shoved the shovel into the gutter—her final shove at last. She had spent hours cleaning it—the sa gutter she had avoided, knowing full well it would beco her next punishnt.
That was why she had made sure to act good and well-behaved. Only for everything to shatter because of one incident. And now, this punishnt felt like the best thing her father had ever "given" her.
Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, her skin itching under the unforgiving sun—all thanks to that chicken. That chicken better enjoy the corn, she thought bitterly. It had better soak in all those nutrients, because one day, I’ll buy that bird, cook it, and eat it with the greatest satisfaction.
Grumbling to herself inwardly, she dragged the shovel to the tap, turned on the water, and began to wash it. The job was done; she was finally done. Now, she just needed to go inside and bathe.
Touching the side of her face, she winced. It was hot—swollen even. Everything felt pressed together in her head, her thoughts buzzing. If only she had been more careful, none of this would have happened.
Her father had settled the matter with the lady—two pennies and one coin. But that money had co from their other neighbor. Now her father owed that neighbor. It was a ss.
Ariana carried the cleaned shovel to the side of the cottage, setting it down carefully near the woodpile. It was borrowed, for her punishnt. She’d return it to the neighbor later.
She carefully arranged the shovel down, knowing that if anything happened to it, she’d be held accountable. And she didn’t even want to imagine what kind of punishnt her father would co up with next. His punishnts always seed to grow harsher with every new offense—more painful, more humiliating. That was just how he was.
’Isn’t today such a great day? I’ll be eting the king of another punishnt again—spectacular,’ she said to herself with a painful smile.
As she stepped into the cottage, the air felt cooler, though not more welcoming. Her sister was at the table, humming softly while preparing so kind of fruit salad, clearly in a good mood. Too good.
Their father sat on the worn-out sofa, its foam peeking through the seams. Legs crossed as he read the latest newspaper, he spoke in his usual quiet tone.
"Are you done with the punishnt?"
Ariana nodded respectfully.
"Go have your bath," he said, eyes still fixed on nothing. "After that, return the shovel."
Before Ariana could respond, Ava jumped in, her voice calm but laced with veiled judgnt.
"But Father, once Ariana is done with her bath, we need to prepare," she said sweetly, almost thoughtfully. "Rember, we’re all going to the ball. We need to look our best. We wouldn’t want soone showing up slling like gutter, now would we?"
She paused as her gaze moved softly to Ariana before adding, "And we’re attending as a family. I don’t want Ariana disgracing . Just imagine—the future Luna having a sister who slls like that."
Ariana rolled her eyes, unable to help herself. She was exhausted. The punishnt had drained her, and she had no energy left for her sister’s usual nonsense.
"Father, did you see that?" Ava snapped, her voice rising as she pointed at Ariana. "She just rolled her eyes at like I was speaking rubbish!"
"It’s fine, Ava," their father replied evenly. "You are not speaking rubbish."
"You should be glad you have a sister like ," Ava said, puffing up with pride. "At least I’ll do sothing about that face. I’ll add a little makeup so you don’t embarrass us."
’Nice, her swollen face was visible’
And it was only then that Ariana understood the real reason for Ava’s sudden "consideration." It wasn’t kindness. It was image. Ava didn’t want Ariana looking bad at the ball—not because she cared about her, but because she didn’t want herself to be embarrassed. That was the painful truth of it all.
But there was one thing Ariana couldn’t help but notice—her father wasn’t acting like his usual self. Normally, if Ava had complained about anything she did, he would’ve shouted at her, maybe even thrown in a punishnt or two. But lately, he just seed... tired and calm.
Her gaze drifted toward him. He sat quietly, eyes scanning the newspaper in his hands. His posture was relaxed, almost distant. She wondered for a mont if he was okay—but she didn’t dare ask. The last ti she’d tried, hoping to show concern, it had ended terribly. He’d lashed out, accusing her of trying to take her mother’s place. The words had cut her deeply, and since then, she’d learned to stay silent, choosing instead to pray quietly to the Moon Goddess to watch over him.
Finally, her father spoke. "Astonishing. The invitation’s gone viral," he said, almost to himself. "You’ll be very lucky... Ava, it’s the day your mate will arrive—the Alpha King is finally finding his Luna and bringing his mate."
Ava smiled proudly. "Yes, Father," she answered, soaking in the praise like sunlight.
But for Ariana, it was all background noise now. She turned and walked toward the bathroom, tuning everything out. All she wanted was to wash off the sweat, the heat, and the punishnt that clung to her skin like sha. Her neck and face were warm now—no longer burning hot—but the mory of the sun’s sting still lingered.
She imagined it—scooping a bowl of water and letting it cascade over her body. The thought alone brought a smile to her face. It was funny how sothing as simple as a bath could feel like luxury now. She entered the bathroom, the corners of her lips lifting, revealing her perfect white teeth.
She turned, nudged the bucket into place, and opened the tap.
The water began to trickle.
Then sputtered.
Then stopped.
Her eyes widened.
Oh, wow. Just... wow, she said in her head, staring at the tap in disbelief. Of all tis, now is when the water decides to finish.
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