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We fell silent for a moment, watching the simple flowers sway in the gentle breeze. I felt a new tenderness toward Gluttony, understanding a little better why he might keep himself distant.

“He loves you desperately, you know.”

I wanted to feign ignorance. I could pretend to not know who he meant, but we both knew he meant Gluttony.

I swallowed.

"And you?" I turned back to Sloth. "Besides secretly reading poetry while pretending to nap, what makes you more than your sin?"

He seemed momentarily caught off guard by the direct question. "I cook," he said finally. "With G, usually. Not much else. I watch the world change while remaining unchanged myself." His smile turned self-deprecating. "Riveting stuff, I know."

"I think it sounds nice," I said honestly. "Peaceful. Something to balance out," I gestured vaguely, "all this."

"Exactly." He studied me with surprising intensity. "You're not what I expected, you know."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess—you thought I'd be shooting fireballs and screaming battle cries 24/7?"

"Something like that. Wrath isn't known for its subtlety. The one before you–"

He stopped himself, going still all of a sudden.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I offered, even though I was deadly curious.

“Maybe one day,” he muttered. “Another thing that Gluttony feels guilt over.”

"Sorry to disappoint," I said, not sorry at all.

He rolled his eyes. “Please. The world has enough mindless rage. What it needs is directed purpose." His gaze held mine. "You see us as people, not just manifestations of sin. That's...refreshing."

Before I could respond, a voice called from behind us. "Well, well. What have we here? Sloth actually moving his mouth for conversation? Mark the calendar."

Envy approached along the garden path, looking surprisingly at ease among the flowers Sloth had described as his handiwork. His emerald eyes gleamed with curiosity as he took in our proximity on the bench.

"We were meditating," Sloth said easily. "Or at least, trying to."

"Meditating. Right." Envy's knowing smirk suggested he thought otherwise. His eyes moved to me. "Getting some pre-training relaxation?"

"Actually, we were just discussing your secret passion for horticulture," I replied sweetly.

Envy shot Sloth a betrayed look. "Seriously? That's what you lead with?"

Sloth shrugged unapologetically. "She asked what makes us more than our sins."

"And you decided my gardening was notable?" Envy sounded offended, but I could sense he was more embarrassed than angry.

"The delphiniums are beautiful," I said sincerely. "That shade of blue is extraordinary."

Something shifted in Envy's expression—surprise, followed by pleasure he tried to hide. "It's just a hobby," he muttered, though I could tell the compliment had landed.

"A remarkably productive one," came Pride's voice as he appeared from another path, a book tucked under his arm. "Unlike some people's hobbies." He cast a pointed look at Sloth.

"Hey, meditation is productive," Sloth protested mildly. "In fact I was just training Wrath on it."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Pride's eyebrow arched elegantly.

"That's exactly what I said!" Envy crowed.

I rolled my eyes. "You're all impossible. I ask about your actual interests beyond sin, and somehow it circles back to innuendo."

"What innuendo?" Greed joined our growing gathering, a gleaming dagger he'd apparently been polishing still in his hand. "Did I miss something fun?"

"Just Wrath learning our dirty little secrets," Envy supplied with a wicked grin.

"The bears or the Valentine's Day thing?" Greed asked, dropping onto the grass without regard for his expensive-looking clothes.

"Both, apparently," Pride said, casting an amused glance at Sloth.

"Thanks a lot," Sloth drawled. "Now I'll have Lust after my head before sunset."

"He'll be too distracted to care. Heard he’s training tonight and is rather excited about it," Greed winked at me, and I felt heat crawl up my neck again.

"You're all twelve years old," I muttered, though I couldn't help smiling. This easy banter revealed yet another side of them—the comfortable brotherhood beneath their formal alliance.

"Twelve centuries, maybe," Pride corrected, settling onto a nearby bench with his usual precision.

"Speak for yourself, ancient one," Envy retorted. "Some of us are barely pushing a millennium."

"Children," Sloth sighed dramatically. "I'm surrounded by children."

I laughed, genuinely enjoying their dynamics. "How do you all not kill each other after centuries together?"

They exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them.

"We tried, actually," Greed admitted cheerfully. "Renaissance period was particularly bloody."

"The 1970s were worse," Envy countered. "Disco nearly ended us all."

"We endure because we balance each other," Pride said more seriously. "Even when we want to commit fratricide."

"Family," Sloth said simply. "Dysfunctional as hell, but still family."

The word resonated unexpectedly. Family. Not what I'd expected to find when I'd been dragged back from the Underworld into this strange new life.

“But can you die?” I asked. “Apophis said you weren’t immortal.”

Pride sighed. “Think like Tolkien’s elves. We don’t age or get sick, but we can die from a deity above us killing us. We can get hurt in the mortal realm. It would take a lot, but it’s possible.”

Lust chose that moment to return, raising an eyebrow as he slipped me one of the glass bottles, filled with gold, glowing magick. His arm was in a sling, and his face and neck were mottled with fading bruises.

My skin pricked as I touched it, a bolt of arousal hitting me.

Focus.

"Speaking of family," I said, "maybe you can give me tips on how to get through to Gluttony.” He was the only one who resisted our bond.

Lust frowned. “Don’t push him too hard. Let him come on his own time.”

I nodded. "I'll be careful. I'm not looking to push boundaries, just to open a door that might be closed too tightly."

"Try mentioning the 1843 Bordeaux," Envy suggested. "He's been saving it for a special occasion for about a century now."

"Or ask about his spice collection," Sloth added. "He's actually pretty talkative about cuisine."

"Just don't mention Florence," Envy warned. "Any era."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's where?—"

"Clio," Pride finished with a nod. "Yes."

I filed this information away carefully. "Thanks for the tips. And for," I gestured around at all of them, "this. Letting me see beyond the sins."

"You're one of us now," Pride said simply. "Or becoming so, at least."

"Besides," Greed added with a characteristic grin, "we're learning about you too, through these bonds. Fair exchange."

"Oh really?" I crossed my arms. "And what exactly have you learned?"

"That you talk in your sleep," Envy offered smugly.

"I do not!" I argued.

"That you secretly think Pride's accent is sexy," Greed contributed.

Pride's eyebrows shot up while I sputtered in mortification. "That is absolutely not—I never?—"

"They're messing with you," Sloth interjected, taking pity on me. "The bonds don't work like that. Yet, anyway."

I glared at Envy and Pride, who looked completely unrepentant. "You're both on my list now."

"Promises, promises," Envy purred.

"I should go," I said, standing before they could tease me further. "Thanks for the meditation lesson, Sloth. It really helped."

"Anytime," he replied, sincerity beneath his casual tone. "The garden's always open."

As I turned to leave, Lust called after me: "Good luck with Gluttony tonight!”

I flipped him off without looking back, their laughter following me down the garden path. Despite my embarrassment, I found myself smiling. There was something comforting about their teasing. It felt like acceptance, like belonging.

I lingered at the garden's edge for a moment, grounding myself in the familiar comfort of growing things. On impulse, I reached down and plucked a sprig of lemon balm, rolling it between my fingers and bringing it to my nose. The bright, citrusy scent cleared my head, a small reminder of who I was before all this. A gardener, someone who understood that patience often yielded the sweetest rewards. I had truly believed that even for my ex and that turned out to be completely false. But perhaps, it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Being with the sins was already proving to be a life I’m happier with than it would have been with him.

Taking a deep breath, I tucked the herb behind my ear and started toward the kitchen.

My stomach tightened with each step closer to the manor, memories of my previous encounters with Gluttony flashing through my mind—his panicked retreat when we were supposed to complete the ritual, the aftermath when my magick had thrown him against the wall.

Of all the Sins, our relationship was the most fractured, a hairline crack that threatened the integrity of whatever we were building together.

But maybe that's how healing began. Not with grand gestures, but with small moments. A conversation over simmering pots. A shared appreciation for the alchemy of cooking. An herb from the garden and an open mind.

I squared my shoulders as I approached the kitchen door, the rich aromas of garlic and rosemary enveloping me. This wouldn't be easy. Nothing worth having ever was. But it was a necessary first step. And after my time with Sloth in the garden, I felt steadier, more centered for the attempt.

Whatever waited beyond that door, at least I was going in as myself.