Doll of Fate
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 2: The Coffee
Seren made coffee—the kind that was almost too strong, but necessary after a long night shift. She leaned against the counter, warming her hands on the mug while Orla played on the living room rug, making soft humming sounds as she stacked blocks.
It was peaceful. Slow. A good slice of morning.
Then Seren heard a frustrated grunt from Orla, followed by a small, sharp crack of plastic.
She set the mug down. “Orla?”
Her daughter sat with Bree – that’s how they named the doll – in her lap, it’s leg bent the wrong way. The joint had partially popped out, leaving the leg dangling loosely. Orla looked up with the earnest expression toddlers wore when they weren’t sure if they’d done something wrong.
Seren knelt beside her. “Oh, sweetheart. Too strong.”
She took the doll gently. The damage looked like something she could fix later with glue.
“It’s okay,” Seren said, smoothing Orla’s hair. “We’ll fix Bree after lunch.”
Orla was already distracted by a tower of blocks tipping sideways. Seren set Bree neatly on the couch and returned to her coffee.
Ten minutes passed. Seren finished her mug, started gathering laundry, and went to straighten a few things around the apartment.
In the hallway, she reached up to adjust a picture frame that had been crooked for days. As she shifted her weight to step back, the edge of her sock brushed a toy car Orla had left near the doorway. It rolled quickly beneath her heel.
Seren’s foot slid.
Her arms flung out instinctively to grab something, but her fingers caught only air. She stumbled backward, bumping the wall hard enough to jostle a decorative bowl on a side shelf. It clattered down, and Seren turned sharply—too sharply—to avoid stepping on it.
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