Holding On

The five of them lingered around the dinner table long after the plates had been cleared.

The air was heavy with the warm scent of oranges and cinnamon from Komi's potpourri bowl, which she always kept in the center during cooler months.

Laughter had softened into chuckles.

Stories had given way to sighs and gentle nods.

Olivia sat nestled into the curve of the couch, her eyes half-lidded as Komi and Miranda exchanged tired glances over their shared cup of chamomile tea.

Izan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with a look that straddled both gratitude and nostalgia.

Then Hori stood and stretched, arms flailing dramatically above her head.

"Alright," she said, voice touched with feigned weariness, "Olivia and I are going to bed."

Izan's brows rose. "You and Olivia?"

Hori beamed wickedly.

"Yes, she promised. It's sister-bonding night. No boys allowed."