Choosing Desire Over Duty

This weeks theme for your Daily Dose of Fiction:

Theme: Choosing Desire Over Duty (Without Guilt)

Setting: Riley’s pond garden, mid-morning into golden hour

Frame: One invitation, five women, four resistances, and a shared day they didn’t know they needed.

Emotional Arc: From resistance → release → quiet restoration

Monday

Riley’s pond garden took a beating in the last storm, but her real challenge isn’t the weeds—it’s coaxing four busy friends to set aside their “shoulds” for a day of dirt, laughter, and sangria.

One invitation. Four resistances. And a shared afternoon that changes more than the garden.

📋 Sometimes we need to shove the to-do list aside, call our friends, and yank them out of their muck.

The light off the canyon wall was too good to waste on laundry. Riley leaned back in her chair, watching the ash trees tremble in the breeze. She thought about the women she loved, each buried in “important” things. The kind of ‘important’ that could swallow a whole season.

Her pond garden had taken a beating from the monsoon winds. She could repair it alone, but where was the fun in that?

She pulled a notepad closer and wrote: Skylar. Quinn. Val. Raven.

She could picture their protests already: work, deadlines, responsibilities.

She would counter with grilled vegetables, crusty bread, and chilled sangria. Promise them the outdoor shower and a towel fresh from the line.

If she was lucky, they’d stay until dark, the pond lit by lanterns.

It had been a long time since she had planned a day like this, and longer still since she had wanted to.

Tuesday

👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏼💕👩🏻‍❤️‍👩🏻A good friend knows when to let you work. A better friend knows when to interrupt.

Skylar’s voice was muffled, probably because she was half-buried in a stack of maps at the historical society.

“I’m busy, Riley. We’re cataloguing the Whitman papers. Do you know how long I’ve waited for access to these?”

Riley grinned. “You’ll still be cataloguing them tomorrow. And the next day. Meanwhile, I have sage seedlings with your name on them.”

“You’re trying to tempt me with herbs?” Skylar asked.

“And sunshine. And friends. And sangria. You can bring your camera—photograph the garden if it makes you feel productive.”

A pause. “What time?”

Riley let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Noon. Wear something you don’t mind getting muddy.”

She could see Skylar’s reluctant smile over the VID, but let it go. “She’ll be here.”

» See what happens with Riley’s next call tomorrow!

Wednesday

🍸 Some things can wait. Stories over adult beverages and munchies aren’t one of them.

Quinn answered the VID on the second ring, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Around her were stacks of battered cardboard boxes.

“What’s in them?” Riley asked, seeing the clutter around Quinn.

“My old Homeland Security journals. I told myself I’d start sorting today.”

“And how’s that going?”

Quinn sighed. “Two hours in, I’ve reread exactly three entries. I might be here forever.”

“Or,” Riley said slowly, “you could come here, dig in the dirt, and let the past wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s your big pitch?”

“I also have marinated olives, your favorite cheese, and a bottle of that white wine you brought to my birthday.”

Silence. Then: “Fine. But I’m not weeding that far side. That muck is too deep.”

Thursday

🌞 When offered to trade a day of planning for a day with friends in the garden, take the trade.

Val’s kitchen table was covered in seed packets and open notebooks when Riley called.

“Are you planting?” Riley asked.

“Planning,” Val corrected. “I’m charting soil pH and companion plants. I want to replicate some natural medicines my grandmother used. This isn’t just gardening, it’s research.”

Riley laughed. “Important research. But one day away won’t derail it.”

Val hesitated. “The timing’s not ideal…”

“You’ll get fresh herb cuttings from my pond bed. And I need someone who knows how to keep mint from mutinying.”

A reluctant chuckle. “Mint’s a bully.”

“So come wrangle it for me.”

“Alright,” Val sighed. “But I’m not wearing gloves.”

Friday

🌅 Even the busiest day has room for one invitation you shouldn’t turn down.

The VID camera showed a young mare circling the paddock, ears pricked, muscles rippling.

“Training?” Riley asked.

“She’s almost ready for her first ride.”

“Almost ready means not today,” Riley countered. “Come get your hands muddy instead.”

Raven shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told. Besides, the mare will thank you for a day off. And so will I.”

Raven studied Riley for a long moment, the sound of hooves in the background. “But if you make me plant cattails, I’m walking out.”

Saturday

🌅 No one remembers the chores they skipped. They remember the day they laughed until dark.

The air was thick with rosemary and wet earth. Skylar in a wide-brimmed hat, Val barefoot, Quinn rinsing her hands in the pond, Raven hauling lilies like trophies.

At first, there was only the sound of shovels biting into soil and the occasional splash. But soon came the laughter—about the last time they’d all worked together (when Raven swore she saw a snake and Skylar nearly fell in), about who had the best mud streaks on their cheeks.

“Do you know,” Skylar said, “I almost stayed home.”

“Me too,” Val admitted.

Quinn smirked. “I was going to spend the day re-reading my own old reports. This is better.”

They planted until the light softened, then sprawled on the veranda with plates of food and glasses that never seemed to empty. The air was warm, the pond gleaming.

Sunday

The garden was quiet now, the last streaks of sun fading into the canyon. Riley sat with damp hair, bare feet on the flagstone, a glass of wine at her side.

The pond glimmered, the lilies floating like they’d always been there.

She thought about the years she’d filled with “productive” work, ticking off lists until there was no room left for days like this.

It was easier than admitting what else she wanted.

She leaned back, feeling the warm stone at her back.

It had been a long time since she shared a day from start to finish with people she loved.

Longer still since she’d imagined sharing it with someone who might stay.

Choosing Desire Over Duty — Without Guilt

This week, the stories weren’t just about pond gardens, herb seedlings, or muddy feet. They were about choosing what makes us feel most alive, even when the world tells us something else is more “important.”

Which moment would you have said yes to?

Riley’s not the only one seeking more connections. These women have more to say. And much more to hope for.