Hello and welcome to make up.

I'm your host, Amanda.

Today we're continuing our story about Laya and Arna.

When we left off, they had decided to follow the mysterious voice that had told them to leave the treasure box alone. Let's see what they're up to now. Laya stood up, brushing the dirt from her jeans with an air of determination. We should go and see where that voice came from, she declared. Arna nodded, rising to her feet and casting a cautious glance at the ornate box they'd uncovered. She covered it with some vines to hide their discovery from any prying eyes. Together, they began to explore the overgrown grounds, looking for any signs of life or hint of the

mysterious speaker. As they wandered, they noticed remnants of the garden's former glory scattered

around them, gardening tools, rusted and abandoned beneath tangles of weeds, a wheelbarrel,

its metal corroded, and wheel long stuck in place, and a

greenhouse, what was left of its windows covered in a thick layering of grime.

Laya stopped to pick up a pair of dried-out leather gardening gloves, their once sepull surface,

now brittle and faded from the sun.

Someone loved this place, Arna murmured softly, running her fingers along a rusted pair of pruning shears, partially hidden in the grass.

And worked hard at it, Lya said, her voice thoughtful, why would they abandon it all?

As they continued their search, they approached the house that stood at the center of the property, its paint, peeling, and shutters hanging loosely.

The structure was worn, but maintained a certain dignity, shrouded in a quiet sadness.

Tentatively, they ascended the creaking wooden steps to the back porch and gently

pushed open the kitchen door. Inside, the kitchen was dusty, cobweb's draping corners like

delicate lace. Sunlight filtered weakly through dust-covered windows, illuminating faded

wallpaper in floral patterns now barely recognizable.

They moved quietly through the kitchen and into the dining room, where the air grew heavier,

and the faint, sweet scent they'd noticed earlier intensified. It drew them onward, deeper into

the home, until they stepped into a sitting room. This room, too, had floral

wallpaper, still beautiful, despite its fading, and was filled with a stillness that felt almost sacred.

...