Penelope's POV
A child born into a warm, gentle family, she grew beneath the quiet glow of love.
From the day she was born, her parents doted on her with a tenderness that never wavered. They were only commoners, living by selling cakes and bread in their small bakery, hands always dusted with flour and hearts always full.
Yet within those humble walls lived a warmth that felt richer than anything in the world, soft as breath, steady as a heartbeat that never faltered.
"Pene… come inside, darling. Papa made your favourite chocolate cake," my mother called, her voice gentle and warm as it echoed through the bakery.
I had been outside, playing with the other children, but the moment her voice reached me, I ran without hesitation.
The wooden door creaked softly as I pushed it open, and there they were.
My mother stood near the counter, her smile pure and welcoming, while my father looked at me with quiet pride, as though the world itself had arrived just to see him.
