The weather today had, in an unusually peculiar way, surrendered itself into the mouth of a peace that gently bestowed contentment.
In the vast heights of the endless blue sky, there was a strange brightness, a new light — and in the air, a hush, as though all around me, a language long forgotten was being whispered.
Even if one were to squint and search deeply into the sky, there was not the faintest trace of the dark clouds that had once gathered there.
The rains that had poured with sharp intensity over the past few days had soaked themselves into the trees and plants, deepening their green,
giving the flowers and leaves a fresh shimmer, an undeniable clarity.
Where I sat, a few young plants surrounded me — not yet fully grown — their slender brown stems heavy with blooming red flowers.
Between those green leaves and those fragile stems, I gently touched the softness of a red petal and, with great care, separated it from its branch, saying softly:
"To me, life feels like an endless journey,
one whose arrival or destination I do not know.
All I know is this —
as long as the breath within me flows,
this journey will continue searching for its path,
guided only by the voice within —
and I… am merely its traveller."
With my eyes still fixed on that delicate structure made of soft red petals, I added,
"Isn't that right, my tiny red petals?"
I was still speaking gently, quietly, to the flower in my hand — when suddenly, a window in my mind flung open, and some thoughts slammed against the walls I had built within.
The impact reached my body instantly.
My face — which had until now worn a calm expression — shifted, as if led down an unknown path of emotion.
A look passed over me…
as if I had just remembered something terribly important.
But perhaps...
I was already too late to act upon it.
Or the moment to do so... had passed.
Blinking rapidly at the tiny petals, I said in a voice filled with urgency,
"Red petal, we must leave now — we're late!"
But the final words never reached the petal's ears,
because I had only whispered them to myself.
Now, the urgency had left my lips and settled into my feet.
My steps quickened toward the house,
while my thoughts sprinted even faster within.
"Oh no! How could I forget — we had to go to Lindy's today!
And I'm late!
It'll be evening soon...
Csilia must be home from the office by now,
and me? I was out there in the empty garden,
talking to flowers like a lunatic!"
Csilia absolutely hates even the slightest delay —
and I was more than a little late!
Oh God!
What if she's already arrived before me?
I couldn't bear to think beyond that.
Standing in front of the door, I hesitated.
Should I go in or not?
If Csilia asks where I was, what will I say?
That I was… sitting with flowers?
The moment the phrase "sitting with flowers" echoed in my mind,
I suddenly recalled someone's words — but now wasn't the time to dwell on memories.
I unlocked my phone and glanced at the fragile glass screen —
The time displayed was well past when Csilia should have been home.
Murmuring under my breath, I said,
"Whatever happens now… I'm ready for it — like Iron Man."
I carefully entered the door code with trembling fingers,
and the door opened with a quiet click.
I stepped inside silently, closing the door behind me.
The house felt empty —
most of the lights on the ground floor were off,
except for one glowing faintly in the corridor.
That silence was broken only by the sound of loud music —
too loud.
As I climbed the stairs toward my room, I thought,
"Csilia never listens to music this loud… That's strange.
Maybe… it's a new habit.
But even if no one's home, she shouldn't act as carefree as Lan."
I should probably check what she's up to.
(Not that I want to face her right now...)
The music seemed to be coming from the study room.
I crept over and swung the door open quickly —
what I saw left me completely stunned.
There, in front of me, was my one and only brother —
not standing,
but dancing… in the strangest way.
Wearing pajama bottoms covered in floral prints,
paired with an even more bizarre t-shirt,
sporting monkey-shaped sunglasses on his face,
and moving wildly to some ridiculous song blasting from the speaker.
His back was to me.
He was so caught up in his little performance,
he hadn't noticed anyone entering… or watching.
"How can someone be this insane?"
A huge smile spread across my face, and I burst into laughter.
Perhaps he felt it, because he suddenly turned around.
And even then,
the reaction one would expect never came.
Freya was still laughing,
and didn't notice the faint sparkle on her brother's face —
something tender… something unnoticed.
When I looked back at him,
still dancing, albeit now a little slower…
The moment he realized I was watching him,
his steps came to a stop.
He asked softly,
"Frey, why are you standing like that? Come dance with me."
If Csilia had been here, she would've definitely scolded him.
But I?
I liked this side of him.
He was happy.
Not pretending — like I was.
"I'm happy today. You should be too!"
Before I could even respond, he grabbed my hand
and began spinning me around in some kind of clumsy royal dance to that awful song.
We danced like that for a little while,
and I thought to myself:
"He really is crazy sometimes…"
I opened my mouth to ask him something — still catching my breath —
when the music, which had been tearing through the speakers…
suddenly stopped.
Silence fell over us.
My brother and I, who had just been laughing and dancing,
were now staring at each other awkwardly.
And then we both turned to look at her —
the one I had feared would appear.
She was here.
Csilia.
Standing in front of us, expression pinched.
"Freya, we're late! And you're not even dressed yet?
And instead of getting ready, you're… dancing with him?"
She looked at me with nothing but irritation in her eyes.
And at Lan — like he was some kind of idiot.
Before I could even defend myself, Lan piped up:
"Where are you going? A club? Without me?!"
Without missing a beat, Csilia shot back sharply:
"If your brain is malfunctioning, go see a good neurologist.
I don't need your nonsense."
I tried to suppress my laugh.
If I burst out, I'd be next.
Lan rolled his eyes at her,
though even his eye-roll looked ridiculous.
"Csilia, you should learn to speak kindly to your brother!
You can't always talk to me like this!"
He looked genuinely upset — a rare thing.
Then, he said something…
that changed everything.
In a melodramatic tone, he proclaimed:
"Because very soon… I will be very rich."
Turning to Csilia, he added:
"And when you come to me for money,
I'll be ready to help you —
remembering that you're my sister.
But I'll also remember how you used to hit me
and treat me like trash!"
And with that, he smiled to himself — eyes sparkling like a child imagining something wonderful.
Csilia ignored him entirely.
She turned to me and said:
"Freya! Are you going to keep standing here or get ready?
Lindy only invited us and a few others!"
The moment Lan heard "Lindy's" name,
his laughter died instantly.
He immediately stood beside Csilia,
like an obedient little puppy.
She looked at him with a flat, cold stare.
Lan, trying to appear sweet and charming, said:
"Csilia! You're going to Lindy's?
And you're leaving behind your adorable, talented, amazing, sexy brother?"
She rolled her eyes and turned to leave.
But then — suddenly — Lan grabbed her hand.
She turned slightly, surprised.
He said, like a little boy with gleaming eyes:
"Csilia… are you really going to Lindy's party without your precious, gifted, sweet, sexy little brother?"
Csilia looked at him sharply,
tried to pull her hand away,
but Lan wouldn't let go so easily.
So she gently tapped his nose with two fingers —
a graceful, quiet strike.
Lan instantly let go and clutched his nose in mock pain.
I watched them both —
Lan sitting on the floor holding his nose,
Csilia adjusting her sleeve and turning to go.
Then I heard her cold voice say:
"He didn't invite you. That's why you can't come. Got it?"
Lan whimpered,
"But why did you hit me?"
"Because you're making us even later!
Maybe if you learned how to behave,
you could be more than just a friend to Lindy someday…"
Then her gaze landed squarely on me.
"Freya, are you going to keep standing there, or are you coming?"
I quickly nodded and followed her.
Lan was still holding his nose.
He looked at me, about to say something,
but I heard Csilia's voice calling again.
I waved him a quick goodbye,
my smile awkward and false, and left him behind, wounded and sulking.
Csilia went to her room, and I went to mine.
A while later, once I was fully dressed,
I knocked on Csilia's door and called to her.
After a moment, she opened it —
and for a second, I couldn't speak.
She looked stunning.
She wore a black leather tube dress — a second skin that didn't hide, but boldly wrapped itself around her figure: sleek, tight, and unapologetically bold.
It ended mid-thigh, showing off her long, confident walk, accentuated by lace-up stiletto heels.
There were no sleeves, no straps — just a strapless, fierce neckline revealing her sharp collarbones and her rebellious soul.
A subtle zip ran along the side, and at her waist, a thin metal belt shaped her silhouette into an even sharper blade.
She wore smoky eyeliner, a black choker, and her hair was tied in a high messy ponytail, with a few strands framing her face.
She didn't need to say anything about herself —
her dress said it all.
She looked at me,
and I… could only blink.
Finally, perhaps losing patience, she said in her usual dry, cold voice:
"Are you coming in, or do you plan to stand there forever?"
It felt like a hunter had dragged me out of the net — and thrown me right back in.
I stepped inside and looked into her eyes.
"You look very beautiful today."
She didn't seem too affected —
she already knew she was beautiful.
She had never needed anyone to tell her that.
In Freya's room, there was a tall mirror —
and in its reflection, I stood.
I wore a soft ivory blouse made from the lightest muslin cotton — loose and airy, with tiny embroidered daisies near the neckline.
The blouse had a small baby collar, just enough to frame my neck sweetly.
The sleeves puffed slightly and ended in a gentle elastic trim that left a tiny frill resting on my skin.
I paired it with full-length, dusty lavender wide-leg trousers — high-waisted, softly gathered at the top, held by a satin ribbon tied into a bow on the side.
They flowed like a skirt, light and breathable, brushing against my ankles with every step like whispered secrets.
On my feet were creamy canvas sneakers, soft and simple, with pastel pink laces. Near the sole, a tiny stitched heart — a detail only someone very close would notice.
My hair was tied in a low, loose ponytail, secured with a sheer soft blue ribbon.
Two tiny pins — shaped like stars and clouds — gently held back my bangs.
I probably chose them just because they were cute… not realizing they matched the sky today.
No foundation, no heavy liner — just a soft blush and a tint of color on my lips, like I'd eaten strawberries.
My skin looked fresh, untouched — as if the world hadn't yet dared to leave a mark on it.
Slung across my shoulder was a cream-colored tote bag, hand-painted with watercolor sunflowers —
a little imperfect, as though I'd painted it myself one quiet evening, humming to myself in the corner of my room.
Csilia looked at me in the mirror.
She said nothing — just stepped closer and began retying my ponytail more neatly.
I didn't know what to say.
Her voice reached my ears — calm, yet unexpectedly gentle:
"If you put on a bit of eyeliner, you'd look even prettier."
I nodded quietly.
She adjusted my face delicately, did a bit of makeup, and fixed a few of my strands.
When I was finally ready, the two of us headed toward the door.
Just as we stepped out,
I heard someone call out.
Turning back — I saw Lan watching us from behind.
"Bye, guys!" he said cheerfully.
Then, turning to me, he added,
"Freya, you look really nice."
He glanced at Csilia — and instantly looked away.
Said nothing.
I was just about to say something,
when Csilia grabbed my hand, led me swiftly to the car,
and we left for Lindy's.