"Hey… you're going to miss me, right?"
The voice sounded so serious that my natural reaction in the past would have been to laugh. I don't even know why I always reacted that way to things like this.
But this time — I couldn't.
Besides, her question felt far too selfish. Wouldn't it have been better in a moment like this to say "I'm going to miss you"? Instead, she decided to dump the responsibility onto me.
I wasn't going to play by her rules.
"Hm? Nah. I'm too busy." I shrugged carelessly.
More like I was trying to convince myself, throwing out the first thing that came to mind. Yet even in that moment, some part of me wanted to deny everything.
Luisa frowned.
And immediately I got a pillow to the face. I only managed to yelp "Hey!" before the second one arrived.
"Stop it already!"
I tried to dodge, but that only made things worse — the pillow slammed right into my face. I lost balance, collapsed onto the bed, and Luisa landed on top of me.
The familiar warmth. The tone of her voice. That scowling look. Long hair tickling my neck. The way my spine curved under the weight of her body. All of it and…
They say you only understand the important moments later. But it feels like some of them you understand far too early — and then there's nothing you can do about it anymore.
We could easily forget entire days, even when calling them anniversaries. Numbers just don't stick in memory. But moments are different.
It doesn't matter which month, day, or hour — though I'll probably remember it was winter — these moments are already inside me somewhere. And they'll disappear only when I do.
"Just say you'll miss me," she demanded.
I arched involuntarily when Luisa grabbed my shoulders. It almost felt like she was pressing on some pressure points — though I wouldn't dare call it a massage.
I wasn't ready to give in. Not yet.
"And you?"
"I will."
Luisa said it shortly and kneed me lightly, as if nudging me toward an answer. As far as I could remember, this was the first time she'd acted so aggressively.
And yet she was being far more honest than me. It wasn't hard for her to say what she felt. While I…
"Fine, I will. I'll miss you. Happy now?"
"No."
Unsatisfied with my answer, Luisa kept lightly kicking me — as though substituting words with motion. Though they were more like nudges, that kind of behavior was starting to annoy me a little.
She looked like an unskilled interrogator trying to force a confession out of me.
"I'm really going to miss you. For real."
The kicking stopped instantly. She climbed off me and sat beside me on the bed.
A faint chill ran over my body where her warmth had been, but I quickly pushed the thought away.
I still couldn't fully understand Luisa's motives. Wouldn't realizing that parting hurt both of us just make it hurt even more?
In the end, everything would just go back to how it was. My everyday life would stop being black or white — it would probably turn gray again.
Whether I wanted it or not, as long as life continues — change is inevitable. That persistent thought wouldn't leave me alone. And yet… I had no choice but to accept it.
I rolled onto my side and carefully slid off the bed. The cool wooden floor immediately pricked my bare feet like tiny needles. I slipped on my slippers and stretched upward.
"Where are you going?"
"To the bathroom."
I thought she might follow me again, but instead she got off the bed and headed toward the bookshelf.
"Not coming with me this time?"
Luisa didn't react to my question at all. She was reaching for the books. There weren't many of them, but we had only managed to read one. Several times, actually.
Honestly, I wasn't really eager for her to stand outside the door again either. She would talk nonstop, as if trying to smooth over the awkwardness, but it made about as much sense as the description on an air freshener can.
I left the room and, making sure I was out of sight, leaned against the doorframe.
Goodbyes were part of every day, and I had thought this time saying a simple "see you" wouldn't be hard. And yet here I was, propping up the wall like I might collapse any second. It wasn't just words — even breathing felt unbearably heavy.
I could understand my own feelings, but — what exactly had I managed to do to make Luisa cling to me so tightly?
I kept telling myself that I would be the only one who'd miss her — it made things feel just a tiny bit easier. That way I could shrug off responsibility for someone else's emotions.
But reality had no intention of agreeing with me.
"You've become good friends."
Right after the words, the door to the room closed, making me almost jump. The voice didn't belong to Mom, nor to Dad, and definitely not to Luisa.
I turned toward the source and met the eyes of a stranger. He was about the same height as Dad, but that was where the resemblance ended.
He looked too… calm for this house. Too certain that he had every right to stand here.
Light hair swept back carelessly, as though done in a hurry. When he turned fully toward me, I noticed the beard — thick, unfamiliar. It shattered the image I had almost put together.
I would have thought it was Euriel if not for her.
Maybe this was the person Luisa had mentioned — what was his name again?
"Who are you?" I asked warily, slowly stepping backward.
"Have I really become so charming that you don't recognize me?"
I wasn't in the mood for guessing games, so I repeated:
"Who are you?"
"Come on? You seriously don't recognize me?"
The stranger leaned closer, pointing at his own face as if to say "Look carefully. It's me!" Not that it helped.
"I told you the beard doesn't suit you. You instantly turned into a grandpa."
Relief washed over me when Dad appeared. At least it meant the stranger really wasn't some random intruder.
"Hah. You're just jealous of how rugged and manly I've become. All the girls were staring." He straightened up, answering Dad.
I doubted the beard was synonymous with manliness.
Still… he had actually described the passersby's reactions pretty accurately — they really were staring. But I wasn't about to tell him that.
"Of course. They were shocked to see their favorite bishop age thirty years in a single month."
A month? Bishop? No way…
"Euriel?"
The name slipped out before I could stop it.
He turned to me again. And in that moment, the familiar smile I already knew so well appeared on his face.
Even if distorted by a certain amount of facial hair.
"You're wounding me right in the heart with such distrust," he said, with exaggerated theatricality.
"Don't overact. Even I had trouble recognizing you."
I don't know what he meant by that, but the way Dad crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin proudly seemed to say something along the lines of: "If even I couldn't, no one else stood a chance."
I felt a vague mix of emotions about it.
"I wasn't expecting sensitivity from you anyway," Euriel shrugged, completely ignoring his smug expression.
"What did you just say?"
When Dad glared at him, I thought they were about to start bickering again, but instead… they hugged, immediately launching into a stream of pleasantries.
I'd almost forgotten that Euriel usually just materialized in our house out of thin air. Maybe this time was the same, and Dad had only noticed him after I did? Or maybe he simply missed him?
Whatever. Who cares.
"Hey, Yori! You… Oh… Hello." Luisa mumbled quietly, a nervous note in her voice, and lowered her head.
Her enthusiasm evaporated the instant she saw Euriel standing beyond the doorway. I wasn't sure if she recognized him — but her eyes darted around, and her shoulders tensed.
This was the first time I'd ever seen Euriel in the role of "father," or really any kind of interaction between the two of them. I noticed that I myself started to feel nervous the moment Euriel looked in her direction.
For some reason my first instinct was to step between them, as if trying to shield her, but… I knew I had no right to do that. So I simply swallowed those feelings, letting them sink heavily into my stomach.
I had expected Euriel to find exactly the right words to lighten the mood — but I was wrong. Instead of the usual "Hello" or "Long time no see," he chose silence. He just nodded.
A flood of different emotions surged through my body. It felt like a real storm had started in my stomach, dragging up everything I'd tried so hard to drown.
I had always thought of him as quick-witted and skilled at handling people. It was unpleasant to realize I'd been mistaken.
But why? A bishop… Isn't someone like that supposed to get along with everyone?
Or… was it something about Luisa specifically?
Did he dislike her? Then why adopt her in the first place?
These and similar thoughts quickly began to pollute my mind.
And then I caught his gaze on me. For a second it almost seemed like he was silently asking me for help.
But that couldn't be, right? Or… could it?
"Uh, oh, this is Euriel."
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, pointing Luisa toward him.
"I know."
Luisa answered shortly, looking at me in mild confusion.
"Right."
I had nothing else to say. My shoulders sagged on their own, and I kept smiling. Not from happiness, of course.
It felt like I had just opened a box that should have stayed closed. I never considered myself particularly clever, but right now I felt like a complete idiot.
Maybe Euriel had been expecting me not just to introduce him, but to mention how we'd spent time together? That's probably why his first observation had been: "You've become good friends."
But we weren't. We weren't friends. I should have corrected him from the very beginning, but the moment never felt right.
I know — I was never completely honest with myself. I came up with all sorts of excuses — but the truth is simple. Luisa matters to me.
That was enough. Any other labels were meaningless.
The worst part was that I couldn't say it out loud. Even if I tried. The more precisely I chose my words, the more they would hurt.
I swallowed.
"And?"
Dad frowned — his whole posture screaming that he didn't like what was happening.
Euriel had barely started to turn his head toward him when Dad suddenly kicked him in the backside, making him stumble.
The sound was so dull and distinct that it seemed Dad had put real force behind it. But judging by Euriel's face, it was hard to tell if it actually hurt — he mostly looked annoyed.
It was the first time I'd seen this side of Dad. No wonder Luisa's eyes were unnaturally wide.
"Are you an idiot, or what?"
"You're the idiot. If I hadn't seen Yori for a whole month, I'd be hugging her in tears. I wouldn't doubt I'd even notice an extra centimeter of grown-out hair."
Dad's confession didn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm, but honestly… I was a little glad to hear something like that.
"Yori really has changed," Euriel remarked, glancing at me.
"Huh?" Dad was clearly thrown off by the response.
"What 'huh'? You asked — I noticed."
There was logic in his words, of course, but Dad definitely hadn't meant it that way. Still, this ridiculous exchange actually helped ease the tension. I could feel the muscles in my face twitching as I barely held back laughter.
"Yori isn't your daughter," Dad stated irritably.
I don't think Euriel failed to understand what Dad was trying to say. But for a brief moment something strange flickered in Dad's eyes. As if he seriously wondered whether someone was trying to take me away.
I doubted Euriel was short of decorative plants at home, but whatever.
"That's sad to hear. And here I raised her from the day she was born."
"You…"
Dad seemed about to argue, but couldn't really disagree. His raised index finger slowly drooped back down.
It was a fact — until he left, Euriel had always been here, basically like he lived in the house. Not much had changed in that regard.
"You've changed too, Luisa. Maybe right now you're acting like before, but just a few minutes ago…" He pressed a finger to his lips and winked at her.
What did he mean by that? What happened a few minutes ago?
I tried to remember and… felt my ears start to burn slightly. My hand unconsciously grabbed the fabric of my pajamas where the mark was.
Stupid. After all, he couldn't possibly know what happened yesterday; he was surely referring to the recent childish pillow fight. But just in case…
"Sorry," Luisa replied evenly, staring at nothing in particular.
Awkward.
The air that formed between us in that moment could only be described one way.
It felt like we were all at a party none of us wanted to attend but were forced to show up for. And everything boiled down to either lame jokes or strained silence.
Dad was behaving like his usual self, but… it wasn't helping.
I caught myself mentally replaying Luisa and Euriel in my memory. And I wasn't entirely sure I was seeing the same people standing in front of me.
And yet.
Still.
Before I could even fully realize it, I had already grabbed Luisa by the hand. Ignoring any possible protests — which she wasn't actually making — I pulled her after me.
"We're going to finish packing," I said, waving my hand before shutting the door behind us.
And yet, in a way, Euriel remained himself. It was as if he understood exactly where things were headed and opened the door for me himself. Otherwise, my dramatic exit would have ended… well, not quite as dramatically as intended.
"Weren't you going to the bathroom?"
"Doesn't matter anymore."
In truth, it had never really mattered to begin with. I just wanted to escape the suffocating atmosphere in the room. As it turned out, outside wasn't any better.
"I think I've already packed everything," Luisa said, scanning the room with her eyes.
"Really? Good."
I said the first thing that came to mind. I wasn't even sure I'd heard her correctly.
Luisa was looking somewhere off to the side, and I followed her gaze. What it settled on was the book — lying exactly in the center of the table, like some forbidden grimoire in a hidden chamber.
Maybe she planned to carry it by hand? Not the best idea if she glanced out the window.
"You forgot the book," I nodded toward the table.
"I didn't forget. I want to leave it for you."
"Why?"
I didn't need to read the title to know what book it was. That burgundy cover was all too familiar. And that's exactly why I couldn't understand why Luisa would want to leave it behind.
"As a keepsake."
It sounded like Luisa was moving abroad with no intention of ever coming back. But in reality, the house she was going to was only a few dozen minutes' walk from mine.
Maybe I was misreading her intentions, and she was leaving something she was sure to return for?
Honestly, exchanging keepsakes was — of all the options — the most reasonable choice. She should have thought of it before "marking her territory." As crude as that sounded.
And yet.
I couldn't approve of her choice of item. The memory she was leaving on that unremarkable table was worth more than anything I had ever owned. No matter how attached Luisa had become to me — I wasn't worth it.
I couldn't accept it.
"You should choose a different book."
"This one."
Luisa's sharp refusal was too reckless even for her. At the same time, she left no room for argument. She simply turned away from me, as if to say — conversation over.
Troublesome.
"I don't have anything to give you in return," I exhaled, scanning the room once more.
The bed was the only truly valuable thing to me in the entire house, but I doubted I could give that away.
"Still, it would be better if you kept it with you. And you could leave me, for example… this."
I pointed at the blouse Luisa was wearing. Not that I wanted her to undress, but everything else was already packed — I didn't have much to choose from.
And yet, to my peaceful suggestion, Luisa firmly shook her head.
"Then — the hairpin."
"The hairpin?"
"Yes. This one."
The hairpin Luisa pointed to had been sitting on the bookshelf ever since Mom first put it in my hair. I hadn't touched it since. And Mom — knowing me — never insisted.
There was nothing particularly special about it. Though perhaps there was some value after all.
While I silently stared at the hairpin, Luisa walked over to the shelf, picked it up, then came back to me. She took my wrist, lifted my hand, and placed the hairpin in my palm.
"Will you put it in for me?"
Right after, Luisa closed her eyes and leaned her face closer to mine.
I swallowed.
The object in my hand weighed barely a few grams, yet I could distinctly feel its weight. It was hard to say exactly what kind of feeling it was.
I reached toward her hair, carefully touching the ends and slowly moving upward, as if studying it. Luisa's eyelashes fluttered, but her eyes stayed closed. Her breath quietly brushed my wrist, forcing me to breathe in the same rhythm as her.
Securing a hairpin takes a couple of seconds. Gather a few strands, slide them between the teeth, and fasten. Simple enough, right?
And yet I was taking far too long, as if trying to braid her hair.
In truth, I knew the reason. I knew. And it was simpler than it seemed — the longer I fussed with the hairpin, the longer I could touch Luisa's hair.
I didn't even understand why I needed it, but I couldn't stop. My fingers kept reaching, sliding through the strands like a comb.
Silky to the touch. The same scent that used to be a natural part of the room now tickled my nose.
As if carving scars into my own body, I tried to etch every single fragment into memory.
I unfastened the hairpin — fastened it again, pretending I couldn't decide where it looked best. The position never actually changed.
Luisa didn't complain.
They say you can never get enough air before death, but I kept greedily gulping it down — even though nothing could change anymore.
I knew Luisa might stop by tomorrow. Maybe even after that. But stopping by and staying were not the same thing.
The frozen time between us would slowly melt away like a glacier until our paths finally diverged for good.
"Done."
I stepped back as Luisa opened her eyes. She straightened up and immediately reached up to touch the hairpin with her fingertips.
"How do I look?"
"Same as always, I guess."
I shrugged, not entirely sure what I was supposed to say in this situation. The small accessory didn't really change anything noticeably.
Besides, Luisa always looked cute. Of course, I wasn't about to tell her that.
"I knew you'd say that."
She gave me a light shove on the shoulder, but there was no anger in the gesture. Luisa was smiling. I tried to smile back, but lifting the corners of my mouth felt harder than usual.
"Oh, about Euriel…"
"What about him?" Luisa tilted her head to the side, looking at me.
I wasn't sure if this was the right moment to ask, but I also wasn't sure another one would come.
Maybe it was just my selfish wish, but I didn't want to see Luisa like that again. Still, it wasn't in my power to change anything.
"Do you two… not get along?"
"No, it's not like that. It's just…"
I thought the explanation would end there. In moments like these, Luisa often pulled back, like the tide retreating.
Luisa sighed, took my hand, and led me toward the bed so we could sit. I followed along.
Our fingers stayed intertwined while we sat side by side.
"Uncle Euriel used to be a frequent guest at our house. As far back as I can remember, he was always somewhere nearby."
Luisa spoke coolly, making it hard to tell whether these were good memories or not.
But as I listened to her story, I suddenly realized that I wasn't special at all. I hadn't known Luisa existed, and she probably hadn't known about me. Only Euriel had always been the one person indirectly connecting us.
"And when Dad left, he was the first one who came for me. And I… I drove him away. Said awful things."
I felt Luisa's palm tighten around mine.
"After everything, I don't think Uncle Euriel actually wanted to adopt me. Maybe that's why he had to ask your mom to become the second guardian."
My mom?
Honestly, this was the first I'd heard of it. But were Mom and Euriel even related? I didn't think so.
And yet, if Mom had agreed to something like that, why hadn't she and Dad just taken guardianship of Luisa themselves? Wouldn't that have been better?
I wanted to believe that adults knew what they were doing. Because if they didn't — then there was no one left to decide anything at all.
My father, Mom, and Euriel were all still too young to really be parents. But maybe that was still better than being alone.
Children are the future. But without a present, there's nothing for it to hold on to.
"I don't think Euriel is angry with you. Before Dad's kick, I wasn't even sure he knew how to get angry."
"Of course he knows how. Everyone does."
Even though my words were mostly a joke and not particularly tied to reality, the finger that poked my cheek was very real.
"That's not what I meant. It's just… he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would do something he didn't want to."
I swatted her finger away and leaned back slightly, but Luisa quickly pulled me back by the hand.
"Maybe."
There was no certainty in her voice. She probably didn't really want to keep talking about it.
Her hand squeezed mine again as she turned to face me. I noticed how her lips pressed together for a moment. As if silently asking for something.
"Well… you're always welcome here. Mom, Dad…"
"I know."
She kept looking at me, occasionally biting her lip, as though waiting for something more. I understood that I should say something else.
And I didn't.
.
I can't remember how I ended up downstairs at all — as if everything was happening in a dream. All I remember is Luisa's hand leading me along.
The air in the living room was the same temperature as in my room. But the floor was icy — I could feel it even through the soles of my slippers.
Euriel and my parents were already waiting for us by the entrance. There was no reproach for taking so long to pack, no quiet grumbling. Everyone was behaving like usual. And it seemed only I felt different.
"Wow, you've made noticeable progress. Do you climb up on your own too?"
"Yes, but… it'll be a bit harder now."
I answered automatically, not really thinking about the question.
"I hope you don't throw away all your effort and keep climbing on your own at least sometimes," Luisa immediately cut in, letting go of my hand.
The fact that she spoke up at all was surprising. But what shocked me most was that she was laughing.
I froze for a second.
"No. Of course not. I'll try."
Luisa, looking at me, giggled again. I didn't quite understand why she was laughing. The sudden shift in her behavior threw me off.
If she could smile — then I should too. I shook my head slightly, as if shaking off drops of water.
Lifting my head, I smiled — as widely as I possibly could.
Everything's fine.
That was exactly the kind of thought that should at least slightly light the path ahead of me.
But the light from my thoughts couldn't compare at all to the light coming from the smile of the girl standing across from me.
"I can come again, right?"
Anytime — that's what I wanted to say.
But it wasn't up to me to decide.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because I'll be coming to see you, obviously."
Luisa answered without hesitation and laughed again. In truth, I didn't need to hear her answer to know it. And still, it filled me with warmth.
I scratched my forearm and looked away.
"Well then…"
"Well then? What then?"
She stubbornly followed my gaze, as if chasing sunbeams, until I finally gave in.
"Of course. I'll be waiting."
"So you'll be waiting for me?"
Her surprise was far too exaggerated. She could use a few acting lessons from Dad and Euriel.
It was obvious she was teasing me. It was a little irritating. And at the same time — it gave me a chance to pull myself together.
"A little less now."
"Oh. Then I'd better leave before you stop completely." She waved her hands in front of herself and stepped back.
This was the exact annoying Luisa I was used to seeing. If she stayed like this all the time, I think I wouldn't even worry.
Well… maybe just a little.
"Since you're finished, we'll be going then."
Euriel's hand rested on Luisa's shoulder, and I noticed the corner of her mouth twitch. For a moment I felt like I'd seen something like this before. But… it didn't matter.
The front door swung open. Immediately afterward, a cold gust of wind slammed into my face, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut. When I opened them again, Luisa had already stepped over the threshold and was waving energetically at me.
"See you!" she called out.
She waved at my parents too. They accepted her departure far too calmly. As if that entire month had existed only in my head.
"Go… Good Luck."
I almost said "Goodbye," but caught myself just in time. To anyone else it might have seemed trivial, but for Luisa, words of parting hurt more than the parting itself.
Luisa's eyes widened in surprise. In response, my own eyes started darting around. I knew it wasn't the best choice of words, but what else was I supposed to do?
Seeing my reaction, Luisa burst out laughing even louder.
"You're so weird."
"You're the weird one."
I answered almost in a whisper, but she definitely didn't hear me over her own laughter and the distance between us.
.
When Luisa first left, I didn't notice any changes. The house simply became quieter. To be fair, even while she was here, it was sometimes quiet. So I accepted what was happening quite calmly.
But the moment I returned to my room, I realized — the house was cursed.
A few strands of her hair remained on the pillow. The emerald color stood out sharply against the usual white — as if the first signs of spring were pushing through a thick layer of snow. Ironically, what I felt was the exact opposite.
And the scent too. We used the same soap, and yet — it was different.
I'd heard the phrase somewhere: "you became a ghost in my rooms" — now I understood what it meant.
The bruise no longer hurt — it actually never really had — but I could feel it pulsing, as though the pain was still there.
Though I was hungry, I knew I wouldn't be able to eat anything. Even if I tried — I wouldn't taste the food. And I didn't want to sit at the table in front of Mom with a sour face.
I knew there was no point sitting at the table looking like that. It seemed Mom understood everything. And didn't call me.
Even Dad didn't peek in or try to joke. Very tactful of him.
They say people don't pray until they know suffering. But even if I'd known whom to address my prayers to — I had nothing to say.
I ran my fingertips over the cover of the book on the table — just as worn. Right now I didn't want to pick it up, let alone open it.
Stepping away from the table, I climbed onto the bed and immediately flipped the pillow next to me to the other side. In truth, it didn't help. I had always been Luisa's pillow. And though none of her hair remained on me, it felt as though I could still sense the weight of her head on my stomach.
Apparently this wasn't going to end. I should have left the room, but… I couldn't.
I lay on the bed until evening. I didn't even have the strength to sleep. I was afraid of what I might see in my dreams.
For the first time I managed to catch every shade of the sky's change. Clouds drifted past my window until they completely dissolved into the blue. There was no moon, and the room grew completely dark.
And yet, what was happening outside didn't touch me.
My back started to ache, as though I were lying on hard floor instead of a bed. My pulse throbbed unpleasantly in my temples, like the ticking of a clock. Every thought filled me with such disgust that it felt like I might throw up any second.
But I still refused to get up.
A quiet knock came at the door. As soon as it opened, the light turned on.
"Are you okay?" Mom asked, stepping inside.
All I could do was shift my gaze toward her.
"Of course."
…Of course not.
I was not okay at all. But I didn't want to say it. Didn't want to try to explain. I just… didn't want to.
"I can see that. Mind if I sleep with you tonight?"
I needed it. Even more than needed it. But I quickly pushed the thought away.
Mom surely had enough of her own worries without me piling mine on top.
And yet, I couldn't find the strength to refuse outright.
"If you want to."
I gave a small shrug, as though it really didn't matter.
"So the final word is mine? No backing out now."
Mom slowly approached the bed, drifting through the space like she was floating, hands hidden behind her back. When she smiled, I noticed her eyes turn almost transparent for a moment before regaining depth. It looked as though a lightbulb inside them had flickered off for a second.
"Look what I have for you."
She brought her hands out from behind her back — and there, curled up asleep, was a tiny velarin.
Before I could say anything, the creature lifted its head and with one leap jumped onto me. Its damp paws pressed through the fabric of my pajamas as it settled on my stomach.
"Looks like it turned out to be VelaYori. My miscalculation."
Mom made a silly face, tapping her fist against her own head, and I couldn't help but smile.
I had only just reached out to touch the animal when it vanished instantly, leaving nothing behind. In that moment something clicked in my chest. My lips trembled almost imperceptibly.
"Don't worry. I'll take her place."
My eyes widened as Mom flopped onto the bed. For a second I thought she was going to crush me. But she managed to pause just long enough to… bury her face in me.
"Mom! You're heavy!"
"Ugh, so rude."
She immediately pinched my leg, making me squeak quietly.
Mom didn't demand answers and didn't even try to start a real conversation. Getting close through superficial small talk always felt terribly difficult. But closing the distance between bodies to zero was easy.
Without saying a word about her intentions, it seemed she was genuinely trying to push the memories out by sheer force. Air escaped in short bursts every time she pressed against me.
This simple — if somewhat rough — action made it clear that I wasn't alone.
I had never been alone.
My stomach growled. Somehow, amid all this fussing, I suddenly felt hunger very sharply.
"That won't do. My daughter isn't ready to perform in the opera yet."
"What? What opera?"
"Hm? Then — ventriloquism?"
Her answer left me just as confused as before. What opera? What ventriloquism?
It seemed she was looking for a better stage for me.
"What are you even talking about?"
"You're hungry," she stated confidently, nodding.
"Oh, well… thanks for noticing. But I don't think right now… you know."
It was hard to form the words properly — I didn't want to sound overly dramatic and at the same time didn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Really? Phew. The omelette still turned out too salty anyway."
Then why suggest it at all?
She lifted her head, tapping a finger against her chin. Her dark hair swayed, bringing back a familiar scent to my memory.
"But food shouldn't go to waste, right? Maybe try a bite and tell me how it tastes?"
"What?"
My eyes widened from a fleeting flash of panic.
Not giving me a chance to reply, Mom lifted me off the bed and slung me over her shoulder like some kind of trophy. But resisting felt like too much trouble. And it probably wouldn't have helped anyway.
For some reason, dangling limply like a marionette with its strings cut — I didn't feel uncomfortable. The familiar warmth spread through my body too thickly, leaving no room even to sense the surrounding cold.
It hadn't been that long since I learned to go up and down the stairs on my own, but it felt like an eternity had passed since someone last carried me. It was nice. Even if not quite in this position, of course.
When we entered the kitchen, the set table gave away Mom's intentions from the start — she had planned to drag me out to eat all along.
Adults really are schemers.
Lowering me from her shoulder, Mom sat me down on a chair. She pulled the neighboring one closer and sat right beside me.
The way she propped her chin on her hand and stared at me challengingly screamed "eat" louder than words ever could.
Sigh.
I wasn't a big fan of salt and wasn't exactly eager to try food that might leave an unpleasant aftertaste. But I was left with no choice.
I picked up the fork from the table and swallowed before breaking off a small piece and bringing it to my mouth.
I glanced sideways at Mom. She raised her eyebrows, silently urging me on.
I hadn't even tasted it yet, but my stomach was already cramping.
My teeth clenched involuntarily before my tongue finally touched the omelette — and only then did I swallow.
Sweetness spread quickly through my mouth, settling warmly in my stomach. As if I'd just eaten a piece of honey toast instead of an oversalted omelette.
It was… delicious.
"But it's sweet," I frowned, looking at Mom.
"Really? So the taste is still there after all? That's good."
She laughed and gave me a light nudge on the shoulder.
How? How did she know what I was thinking? I was completely bewildered.
Maybe it was some kind of maternal superpower?
.
As Mom had said, that night she slept with me. Perhaps that was the only reason I managed to fall asleep at all.
I was perfectly aware that after having Luisa constantly beside me, even a blanket wouldn't be enough to warm me. The bed that used to be my refuge had turned into a trap. Every detail felt like thorns with nowhere to escape.
I woke up earlier, feeling Mom's breath brushing against my forehead. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, lifting the strands of hair that had fallen across her face.
This was probably the first time I'd ever seen Mom sleeping.
It once again showed just how inattentive I'd been to the people around me.
My hands reached out to her automatically, seeking warmth. I noticed they were trembling when I clutched the fabric of her nightshirt.
In response she murmured something and pulled me closer. So tightly it felt like she might crush me. I tried to loosen her arms, but it was a pathetic attempt. Then she let go.
This wasn't the warmth I'd been looking for. And the frantic beating of my heart only confirmed it. The difference in our physical strength showed itself too sharply in moments like these. But strangely — the trembling stopped.
I don't know why, but I felt calmer.
I knew Mom couldn't be here forever — she had her own place. And it wasn't necessarily next to me. Which meant I needed to start getting used to the bed being empty again. To there being too much space just for me.
But for now. Just a little longer.
I squeezed the fabric of Mom's nightshirt once more and buried my face in her shoulder. She sighed tiredly. It seemed I wasn't the only one who did this. The thought was faintly amusing.
Closing my eyes, I sank into darkness. It slowly crept under my skin, as though poison were spreading through my veins. Inhale. I felt the warmth and quiet breathing beside me. The pressure on my shoulders eased; I stopped feeling my head. Exhale.
And…
Zzz.
.
When I woke up the next time, it was already well past noon. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and I felt a draft of air from the hallway. It was a bit colder out there, but enough to make me start shivering.
Mom was no longer beside me, which wasn't surprising.
For me the day was just beginning — for Mom, obviously, it was already in full swing. In a way, everything had returned to its usual rhythm.
No, not everything. Something definitely had.
It had been about a day since Luisa left, and considering how quiet the house was — she obviously hadn't come today. I should have expected it. I don't know why I even hoped she would really show up the very next day. It seemed I had overestimated my place in her life far too much.
Ironically, I myself had always preferred solitude, yet the moment I was left alone with it — I waited for someone to fill the void.
Euriel's departure had played a central role in our relationship. It wasn't surprising that after his return, the center of gravity shifted and everything collapsed. I tried to accept it as it was, but sometimes the realization felt like it was squeezing my chest.
Honestly — I knew I shouldn't see Luisa every day. My mind would build false hopes that everything was the same as before — even when it wasn't.
It was important to take a pause. Fill the time with other things. Maybe then I could regain the rational side I'd lost and find some calm.
I rolled up my sleeve and looked at the mark once more. It was already almost invisible.
As I thought — it would fade quickly.
And yet, just looking at my arm — I thought of her, even when I didn't want to.
The flow of cold air stopped, and at the same moment the familiar sound of kitchen utensils reached my ears. Lunch. Maybe not an obvious one, but it felt like a call for me to get out of bed. If I kept lying here — nothing would change.
Simply getting up from bed wouldn't change anything either, but at least then I wouldn't be alone.
I knew — it was selfish. It looked like I only remembered my parents when I was left alone. But… I couldn't help it.
I wouldn't make excuses about age, naivety, or anything else. I was selfish. And I wanted to believe they would forgive me.
I slid off the bed, slipped on my slippers, and stretched upward. My vertebrae cracked one after another, like parts of an old mechanism. Dust motes danced in the winter sunlight, and I couldn't quite answer whether I wasn't their source.
Leaving the room, I closed the door behind me.
"Oh, Yori. Unusually early for you."
It sounded like he was trying to imitate a certain tone. I turned toward the voice — Dad was rubbing one eye and scratching his stomach under his shirt while yawning. It looked like he had only just woken up himself.
"Is it?"
"No. Actually, no," he answered in an even tone.
It seemed Dad was searching for an original way to greet me. I had to admit — there was something to it.
"And you…"
"Today's a day off."
Like any other day, right?
But that question remained unspoken. Instead, I simply nodded.
Dad stepped closer to me, and we headed toward the stairs together. The distance wasn't actually that great, but walking with him still felt different somehow.
"Let me carry you down," he offered.
"I can do it myself."
For some reason I couldn't quite grasp, Dad seemed unhappy with my answer. He frowned. I noticed his eyes darting around, as though he was searching for something.
"Then — a race. Winner gets a helion," he declared, looking extremely pleased with himself.
Seriously?
No matter how you looked at it, this was a terrible idea. Of course I knew I didn't stand the slightest chance of winning, but even so — it wasn't worth the effort.
In truth, the reason was simpler — I just didn't want to. And at the same time, I didn't want to completely dismiss Dad's attempt.
"A prize like that isn't enough for my participation."
"How greedy," he grumbled.
"Runs in the family," I replied flatly, shrugging.
I'd realized long ago that it was true. Maybe on the outside I took after Mom more, but my personality was definitely Dad's.
"Fair enough," he nodded.
Dad didn't even argue. It seemed like the first time we'd actually agreed on something like this. Though, to be fair, he had never really denied it before.
I started lowering my foot onto the next step — and the air was suddenly knocked out of my lungs.
A firm hand clamped around my stomach.
I gasped sharply and turned to Dad with wide eyes.
"What the—?"
"It's not fair that only Emi got to carry you yesterday. Today's my turn."
I tried to protest, of course, but my efforts were far too half-hearted to be convincing. Even pushing away lacked any real motivation. On the other hand, maybe letting him carry me downstairs wasn't such a bad idea after all.
It seemed Dad had figured that out too. He had no intention of letting go. Instead, he just lightly tossed me higher, pressing my back against his armpit.
"And when's mine?"
"You can carry me anytime you want."
Obviously, that wasn't what I'd asked.
Well… whatever.
.
It turned out I had fallen asleep right at the table after lunch. The sound that woke me came from a plate of pastries being set down rather loudly. Dad had done it on purpose, probably to share a bun with me.
But when I reached for the plate — he pulled it away.
Of course. Why would anyone doubt it.
I stretched, then tried again to reach the buns. After several failed attempts — and a sharp ache in my abdominal muscles — I finally managed to grab one.
What an eventful day. All I did was eat and sleep, like a bear in hibernation. If you looked at it that way — my life had pretty much returned to normal.
"You've got stripes all over your forehead," Dad commented, watching me while chewing his own bun.
"It'll pass."
Even though I chewed each bite thoroughly — I barely tasted anything. There was a strange post-sleep aftertaste lingering in my mouth. Hard to describe in just a few words.
But I felt a little sorry for the bun I couldn't really appreciate.
"Here. Wash it down."
I lifted my head when a cup of tea appeared on the table. It turned out Mom had been here the whole time too.
She looked down at me — quite seriously for such a moment. I started worrying she was about to scold me for choosing such an inappropriate place to sleep, but no. Mom smiled and briefly pressed her forehead to mine, leaving me staring up at the ceiling before she stepped away.
Well… okay.
After a couple of sips, my body reminded me of itself rather urgently. I suddenly realized I needed to be somewhere else entirely.
My stomach gave a very specific signal.
I slid off the chair and… that was it. My legs were shaking, almost like a beetle flipped onto its back. I grabbed the chair for support, but I had almost no strength left.
"Where are you going?" Mom asked, puzzled.
"I need… I need to go upstairs."
Even though it was the most ordinary thing in the world, I still felt a bit awkward saying it outright. Instead, I slowly started moving toward the door.
"You can do it right here," Dad replied calmly, taking a sip of tea.
His unexpected statement caught me completely off guard. My eyes started to sting from how wide they opened while I stared at him.
Mom apparently shared my feelings. When she glared at Dad, I noticed tea dripping down his chin while his eyes darted around.
"Just kidding. Kidding," he said, setting the cup down and wiping his mouth.
"Not funny," Mom snapped.
She was already about to come over to me when Dad suddenly jumped up from his chair and scooped me into his arms. This might have been the first time anyone had carried me like a princess.
I barely had time to process it before I was airborne.
If not for Dad's instant help, his joke might have come true. There was no guarantee I could have made it upstairs on my own. Even under the best conditions, it took me about ten minutes.
I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. But even as he carried me, lightly bouncing on each step, I could feel a faint ache from the jostling.
"Here we are. I'll wait for you right here," Dad said, setting me down on the floor.
"Why?"
"In case you fall through. Or want to chat while you're in there," he replied, shrugging.
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't have the energy to think about it either. It felt like the sun was setting far too quickly and suddenly today.
"Just go already."
I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.
Urges like this weren't strange or unusual. But sometimes I wished people would think a little more about how others felt. Who on earth decided to put the bathroom on the second floor?
Of course, while I was stuck in my room all the time — it hadn't been a problem. But now… I just wished we had another one downstairs.
Knock. Knock.
"You still in there?" Dad's voice came through the door.
Where else would I be?
I wanted to snap back, but caught myself in time. The list of things I wanted to say out loud was only growing. And I was afraid that if I kept holding everything in, I'd suffocate soon.
But that wasn't the point right now.
"Why are you still here?"
"Leaving now."
I heard footsteps retreating on the other side of the door and sighed. It seemed even Dad had a shred of common sense left.
After washing my hands, I stepped out of the bathroom, shaking droplets onto the floor. The towel was hung high enough that I could reach it without effort. So — I didn't try.
"Quite the show you put on in there," Dad commented with a chuckle.
The possibility that he'd been standing right outside the door had existed. I just hadn't wanted to believe it. I'd hoped he really had left.
But here he was — leaning against the wall with that stupid grin on his face, as though nothing significant had happened. I wanted to vent my irritation, but I knew it was my own fault for trusting him.
I suppressed the shiver before it became noticeable. Sighed.
"You're awful."
"Mad?"
"Not really," I shrugged. "If you'd left — who would carry me downstairs?"
I must have lost a couple of screws in my head to accept Dad's rather crude comment so calmly. Even if it was a joke — it was still crude.
I didn't want to think about why that screw had fallen out. Right now, I really did feel calmer when someone was nearby. That was enough, I suppose.
"How cunning," he huffed, pretending to be offended.
I almost said "takes after you" again, but changed my mind. He already knew — no need to remind him.
"So, back downstairs?" Dad asked, pushing off the wall.
"Is there anything to do up here?"
Even with Dad — I didn't want to stay here. But I couldn't say it outright. The unspoken words hung in the air, ignoring the flow of the conversation.
"I always have something to do," Dad declared, crossing his arms proudly over his chest.
"Like what? Sweep the floor?"
I doubted it was even possible. I couldn't picture Dad holding a broom, but I asked anyway.
His eyes widened for a second, as though I'd exposed him. Then he cleared his throat and laughed.
He raked his hair back. I was surprised at how quickly his expression changed. As though the laughter had never happened.
"No."
I wasn't surprised. Dad seemed like the type who could find hundreds of excuses just to avoid household chores.
And I wasn't far behind him in that regard. It was some kind of cosmic joke that I'd been born a girl.
"Yori, Quint — come down for a minute."
Right after Mom's voice came the sound of something — I couldn't quite place it; the noise slipped past my ears. But it was still too early for dinner.
I didn't know how much time had passed since lunch, but the sun was still visible. A bright patch on the wall by the stairs was slowly sliding downward.
Dad looked puzzled too. Maybe he'd done something wrong and was now trying to remember what? That would be just like him. So I kept the possibility in mind.
"Well? Shall we go?"
I held out my hand to him, trying to hint that I wanted to go down on my own. But he ignored the offer.
Dad grabbed me under the armpits and hoisted me onto his shoulders. My head spun slightly from the sudden ascent. From up here the world looked different. The same, yet somehow not quite.
I wondered if I'd ever grow that tall. No, of course not. People that tall simply didn't exist.
We headed toward the stairs, and I peered down.
Euriel.
He stood by the front door next to Mom, completely dusted with snow, as though he'd been left waiting outside for a long time.
I caught myself instinctively scanning the living room for Luisa.
She wasn't there.
Yes. That was better. Better, but…
I swallowed. Or rather, tried to. The lump in my throat wouldn't let air pass properly into my lungs.
I put in maximum effort to force a smile and wave at him. Euriel waved back.
"Everything's back to normal, huh?"
He said it with a light chuckle, hinting at the fact that I was being carried again. On arms or shoulders — didn't matter.
I couldn't help but pout at his teasing, but… I managed. For some reason it didn't sting at all right now. I needed the support, even if I'd never say it out loud.
"Yori just sat on the toilet too long. Her legs gave out," Dad answered, patting my thighs before setting me down on the floor.
"Are you an idiot?"
"What? It's a normal thing."
Dad brushed off my remark and simply walked over to Euriel to greet him.
It didn't exactly hurt me, but I didn't think it was necessary for everyone to know. Besides — it wasn't even true.
Well… whatever.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Before I could open them again, I felt something warm settle over my face.
Palms.
They seemed timeless. Warm and slightly damp, as though winter didn't exist for them.
My body began to tremble, even though I wasn't cold.
As though deprived of sight — my hearing sharpened to the limit, and I could hear every breath. I felt the tremor in the fingers that echoed my own.
"Guess who."
I knew that voice far too well. I didn't need to hear it to know who was standing behind me. The scent seeped into my nostrils, bringing on a faint headache.
"Um, I… I don't know."
My voice cracked. I barely managed to squeeze out the words. My body shook harder, instinctively pressing my back against her chest.
And immediately after — I got a kick to the leg. Or rather, just a nudge. But it was enough to make my knee buckle, and I nearly fell.
"Very funny. If you say you forgot me again — I'll strangle you for real," Luisa grumbled angrily, pulling her hands away from my eyes.
I froze in place — I didn't want to believe it was real. I didn't understand why. I had been waiting for her. I wanted to see her again, to feel her.
But here she was — and I couldn't make myself turn to face her.
Why?
Why did you come? Why now?
There were no right answers to those questions, so I didn't ask them. I managed to turn toward her. But I couldn't lift my gaze.
Today she was dressed differently. Even though I could only see her legs — it was enough. Dark blue pants that somewhat resembled jeans, and tall light-colored boots laced tightly.
The look suited her. It didn't matter that I couldn't see the full picture — my imagination was sufficient.
"You know my face is higher up."
"I know."
I said it — because I had to say something. In response, I only got a sigh.
Her finger touched my chin, lifting my head. I wanted to resist — I couldn't.
I shifted my gaze toward my parents. I understood they wouldn't say anything, wouldn't do anything. On the surface — nothing threatened me, even if the trembling said otherwise.
I brought my eyes back to Luisa. She looked angry. Her cheeks were puffed out, as though she was hiding something behind them. And her eyes seemed ready to incinerate me on the spot.
I had to say something. Even the most basic thing. But nothing came to mind.
Hi? Too late for a greeting.
Glad to see you? Of course I wouldn't lie. Not completely, at least.
I looked Luisa over again, trying to latch onto anything to start a conversation. Besides the new pants, she was wearing a sweater I'd never seen before — black.
Unfamiliar.
I always thought she dressed brightly. Unlike me.
No. I needed something else.
Her hair…
The thought snapped off.
"You didn't really…"
"No. I remember."
My hand reached out on its own and grabbed her wrist. I didn't control the strength. I hope it didn't hurt.
The problem was I couldn't explain why. I couldn't bear her frightened look.
I knew Luisa too well to let her finish the sentence.
But… what next?
So I just stood there, holding her wrist. Now looking straight into her eyes. My lips moved, but the words never came.
I looked her over once more. I noticed the creases in the sweater — bag straps digging into her shoulders. Two of them.
"Why two bags?"
But before I could get an answer, hands settled on my shoulders, gently squeezing them.
"Don't be so tense. Everything's okay."
Mom's hand slid over mine, gently prying my fingers from Luisa's wrist. She crouched down, stroking my back.
"Sorry… I…"
I knew I should apologize, but I couldn't explain the reason for my own actions. There were too many.
As Mom's fingers moved along my back, I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. My thoughts were still chaotic, but thinking became much easier than before.
I took a deep breath, letting the air reach my brain. If I kept piling up thoughts — even fragmented ones — they would burst out with the force of an avalanche.
And the way I'd desperately clung to her… If words weren't enough, there was always touch — just not like that.
Simply bottling everything up in my head could give the impression I was about to explode.
I couldn't help but wonder: what else was I supposed to do?
I tried to smile, even though I knew it looked fake, like a well-made doll's.
"Are you okay?"
Luisa asked warily, but despite that she stepped closer. At the same time, Mom stepped back. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea.
I didn't want to say no. Not here. Not at all. But my head nodded before I could stop it.
Her arms carefully slipped under mine and closed around my back as she pulled me against her. Warmth. I instinctively buried my face in her shoulder, but still didn't raise my own arms.
The sweater fabric prickled my skin, but I didn't care.
I had missed her. Too much.
Of course, I didn't say it.
We stood like that for some more time, as though neither of us could decide when to pull away. I heard the wind outside growing stronger, making the windows rattle. And I realized Luisa would have to leave soon.
I didn't know what I was supposed to feel right now — relief or sadness. She had really come. The very next day. Maybe she'd come tomorrow too. But it felt like a short break before an unbearably long climb.
Dad had probably been right — I really was greedy. I felt like a prisoner granted only brief visits when what I wanted was to be together all the time.
"What do you want me to say?"
I slowly raised my hand and tugged at the hem of her sweater.
If there were words she wanted to hear — I'd say them. I refused to end on this note. I didn't want to devalue her effort.
"Nothing. I can see everything."
I didn't quite understand what she meant. What could she see? I wanted to turn my head to look at her, but stopped.
I knew the harder I clung, the more painful it would be to let go again — yet I couldn't step back. Even if it was just a breather — just for a moment — I wanted to stay like this a little longer.
I could hear my parents and Euriel talking about something, but the meaning didn't reach me. The breathing by my ear was too clear to ignore. Such familiar warmth, as though it were flowing from body to body — warming and emptying me at the same time.
Gradually the bright patch slid down the wall until it disappeared completely. Evening. Or the clouds had thickened. I couldn't tell for sure.
I knew one thing: the time had come. Again.
It was my own fault that I'd ruined everything. I understood that. But understanding didn't erase the fact that I'd wasted too much time trying to rein in my emotions.
"You have to go already, right?"
There was no point dragging it out. So I asked. If Luisa really came back — I'd try to do better.
"Well…"
"Maybe that's what we should have started with."
I flinched when I heard Euriel's voice, and his hand landed on my shoulder, making Luisa release me. It seemed my shoulders were especially popular today.
Before turning to him, I put a hand to my neck and cracked it, as though after a long stagnation.
"Start with what?" I asked.
"Two bags — two months."
"What?"
The thought that flashed through my mind was the worst possible scenario. I didn't want to believe it. But I understood it was possible.
"You're leaving for two months?"
Before I even got an answer, the muscles in my stomach clenched, as though bracing for a blow.
"How did you come to that conclusion? I just got back."
When Euriel laughed carelessly, I barely managed to suppress the urge to kick him. Now I understood Dad better — why he resorted to physical measures to get through to him.
"Then what?" I pressed, wanting a normal answer.
"Well… Luisa wanted to come every day, and that's… a bit troublesome, you know? I have enough of my own things to deal with."
His words sounded like an excuse. And they didn't really give me a clear answer.
I frowned, looking him in the face. Meanwhile I noticed my foot tapping in place, as though keeping rhythm with my nerves.
"We decided Luisa would stay here until the snow melts."
My mouth opened involuntarily — my jaw locked — and I didn't know whether from joy or anxiety. From everything at once, perhaps.
The blow I'd carefully prepared for didn't land in my stomach. It hit me completely, like an avalanche burying me.
She would stay. And again — for a fixed term.
One month had been enough to knock me off balance.
And an hour had been enough to open an abyss under my feet.
I didn't understand how I was supposed to react. I just stood there, helplessly moving my lips as though someone else were controlling them.
"You could have just left her here from the start. Brought the bags," Dad said, throwing up his hand. "Unlike you — Luisa's already part of the family."
I noticed a grimace twist Euriel's face. It wasn't hard to guess where this was headed.
"What a shame. Looks like there's no place for us here," he lowered his head dramatically, shaking it as though agreeing with the obvious.
"What?"
Dad nearly choked on air when he heard Euriel's reply.
It seemed Euriel had outplayed him on his own field.
The two of them kept arguing, but I was no longer listening. Just voices in the background, like a forgotten radio. Mom, meanwhile, didn't interfere in any of the conflicts. As though there was no place for her. It made breathing hurt a little.
"Mom…"
In response Mom only pressed a finger to her lips, asking me to be quiet, and took the bags from Luisa. She gave her a gentle push in the back, closing the distance between us. Then she headed toward the stairs herself.
Distance — so easily closed, so easily broken again.
Unfortunately, feelings didn't work the same way.
While you're close — they build up. The moment you separate — they burst out. But they don't become any less for it.
After everything, it wasn't surprising that Luisa looked confused. Her eyes narrowed awkwardly when she looked at me.
It became obvious that now it was my turn to take a step toward her.
I understood I wouldn't be able to speak honestly. Any extra words had to be wrapped in a joke and thrown away.
I also knew I couldn't convey feelings through touch — the way Mom could.
I had my own way. Not reliable enough. But quite sincere.
What if she didn't remember? What if she refused? What if she didn't want to anymore?
The way my hand twitched, as though trying to retreat — betrayed my hesitation.
But the hand extended anyway — pinky out.
I almost pulled it back when her gaze darted downward.
Her reaction didn't look entirely favorable. I already regretted it. I hunched over, feeling cold trickle down my back.
But then, tilting her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifted. Tip to tip — our pinkies linked once more. A reminder — we were still here.