I was about to leave the high school when I heard my name.
"Maëlys!"
I turned around. Hemera was walking over calmly, her bag on her shoulder. Just behind her, Hypnos was chewing on something like he wasn't sure what it was.
"What are you doing now?" she asked, in that soft tone that always felt like you were expected.
"I… I'm going home. Like usual."
"Come with us," Hypnos suggested, stretching. "We're swinging by the middle school to pick up the twins."
I frowned a little.
"The twins?"
"Epiphron and Elpis," Hemera clarified with a smile. "Our younger siblings."
I froze for a second. I hadn't known they had other brothers and sisters. But honestly… I didn't know much about them outside of school.
And yet, my feet decided for me.
"Okay."
In front of the middle school, the end of classes looked like a tidal wave. Some kids were laughing, others fleeing like their lives depended on it. A few hall monitors tried in vain to impose a semblance of order.
We stood a little apart. Hemera waved to a few students, Hypnos commented on the weather like he was reciting a poem under his breath, and Thanatos… stayed Thanatos.
Then, in the stream of kids, two figures stood out.
I recognized them instantly.
They carried themselves with the same upright posture as their older siblings, but with a younger, almost carefree energy.
Epiphron—pearl-gray hair swept back by the wind, eyes a surprisingly pale blue-gray. He was smiling gently, like someone who's always two thoughts ahead.
Beside him, Elpis moved with an almost theatrical confidence. Pink hair swayed around their face with every step, and they walked like the sidewalk was a runway.
"Ah!" Elpis exclaimed, stopping in front of us. "So this is her—the famous Maëlys!"
I barely flinched.
"You didn't tell us she was cute," he said to Hemera, looking me over without a hint of embarrassment.
"You especially didn't say she was shy," Elpis added, shooting me a playful wink.
I felt my cheeks heat up.
Hemera laughed softly."I didn't want to influence you. I figured you should make up your own minds."
"We approve," Elpis declared. "Well, I approve. Him—he always pretends he's above all that."
"That's false," Epiphron replied. "I'm well below it. It's more comfortable."
Hypnos burst out laughing, and Hemera rolled her eyes.
I looked at the four of them. And for the first time, I saw them differently. Less perfect. Less distant. More… real.
A real sibling group. Close. Alive. Laughing. A little odd, but profoundly human.
What I didn't know yet was that the picture was missing a piece—there was still one more meeting to come.
The walk to the elementary school was livelier than I'd imagined.
Epiphron and Hypnos traded ridiculous wordplay while imitating the voices of exhausted teachers. At one point, Elpis grabbed my hand without warning, just because they'd decided I was "adopted now." Hemera smiled as she watched them, calm and attentive, and Thanatos… walked a little behind, like a shadow that doesn't weigh anything down but notices everything.
When we reached the school, a small cluster of parents was already waiting behind the gates. Kids ran out, bags bouncing on their backs, backpacks too big, their high, clear voices echoing across the yard.
And then, without anyone calling her, she appeared.
A small figure shot out of the yard at full speed, weaving between the other kids like a dark red arrow.
She zigzagged so fast I thought she was going to crash into the gates.
But no. She ran… straight for Thanatos. Without slowing. Without hesitation.
And when she reached him, she stopped dead, lifted her arms… and took his hand. Just like that.
Not a word. Not a smile. Just contact. Like it was obvious.
She was small. Five years old, Hemera had told me. Her wavy, faded-red hair fell to her neck. Her eyes—grayish violet—held something… strangely ancient.
She didn't look at us. And even less at me. She didn't need to.
Her world, in that moment, ended at Thanatos.
He didn't say anything either. He dipped his head a little and slowly closed his fingers around hers.
There was no excessive tenderness, no awkwardness. Just presence. A kind of silent pact. Quiet. Unshakable.
"Oizys," Hemera said calmly, like marking her arrival.
The little girl gave the slightest nod. She'd heard. But she didn't let go of Thanatos.
"She doesn't talk much," Elpis whispered in my ear. "Except to him."
I nodded slowly.
It was… strange. A little disconcerting. But mostly, beautiful. In a way I didn't have words for. I felt something tighten in my chest, not knowing if it was tenderness or modesty.
And for the first time in a long while, I understood that some bonds don't need an explanation. They exist. And that's enough.
We all walked together to the bus stop. A small moving procession of voices, crossing footsteps, half-whispered jokes. Elpis laughed with Hypnos. Epiphron pretended to ignore it, but his smile gave him away. Hemera kept watch without looking like she was watching. And Oizys, still silent, held Thanatos's hand like it was the only thing that mattered in this world.
I followed. A little behind. But not excluded. Just… in my place. One I was still discovering.
Then the signs appeared:
Stop 6 – Lines E & F to the left.Stop 7 – Lines A & C to the right.
Two directions. Two ways home.
Hemera stopped. Hypnos too. The group split with a barely audible breath.
"You're taking the other one, right?" she said, almost gently, like she wanted to make sure I hadn't lost myself in their orbit.
I nodded.
"Yeah… like usual."
Elpis shot me a wink as they headed toward their bus."See you tomorrow, mysterious Maëlys."
I blushed a little, not sure why.
Epiphron raised two fingers in a casual salute. Oizys didn't say anything—her gaze brushed over me for a brief heartbeat. Not hostile. Not curious either. Just… there.
I stepped aside. They moved on together, united as if they had never been apart. I had rarely seen a group walk like that. One motion. One breath.
I stayed on the sidewalk, watching them go.
Not with jealousy.
With… a strange feeling. Neither hot nor cold. Something between gratitude and vertigo.
They weren't normal. Not ordinary. They were a constellation that had accepted to light me up for a moment.
The bus arrived. I gripped my bag straps, and a small smile rose to my lips. Tomorrow, maybe, they would wait for me again. And I… I'd want to be there again.
We left the bus stop without a word. The others walked ahead of me, their voices sliding into the evening air like background noise I kept at a distance.
The way home was familiar. Too familiar, sometimes. Wind-stirred leaves, uneven cobblestones, the gate that squeaks if you push it too fast. A backdrop I knew by heart. And yet, tonight, something hummed differently.
Elpis talked as they walked, always a little too fast, like their ideas ran ahead of their legs. Hypnos laughed, Epiphron punctuated the conversation with calm, precise remarks. Hemera followed the group, relaxed but attentive. As for Oizys, she walked on my left, her small hand still in mine.
The door opened with a soft creak. Warm light filtered through the living room curtains. The familiar scent of wood, tea, and something simmering greeted us before we even stepped inside.
Inside, it was warm. Alive. Maybe a little too alive.
Mother was there, sitting on the arm of the couch. She was waiting for us, her eyes landing on Hemera first, as always, then on Hypnos, and at last on me. She didn't need to speak.
We took off our shoes. We dropped our bags. And without any real coordination, everyone found their place.
Elpis slipped into the kitchen, sniffing the air."Smells like coriander, right?"
"And jasmine rice," Hypnos added without even checking.
"Thankfully," Epiphron muttered. "We need some consistency in this house."
I went to the corner near the fireplace. Not sitting yet. Just there. Leaning against the wall. Oizys let go of my hand, reluctantly, and rejoined her plushie on the couch. But she kept an eye on me.
Hemera went to Mother and exchanged a few quiet words. Mother listened, brows slightly drawn, focused. Then her gaze landed on me.
I didn't speak. But she understood.
It was always like that between us. No need for words to read the invisible.
Something in her posture relaxed. She brushed her fingers against Hemera's sleeve, gently.
"Everything okay?"
"Things happened," my sister said. "But… nothing dangerous."
"Just life," Hypnos added.
Mother closed her eyes for a moment, like trying to breathe more softly in a world that's always a bit too loud.
I still hadn't moved. The sound of tea steeping in the kitchen now covered their voices.
I thought that even normal days can leave an invisible mark on the walls.
The table was still empty, but dinner's smell floated through the house, mingling with the muffled sounds of evening. Epiphron turned on the lights without warning. Elpis hummed off-key while setting the cutlery. Hypnos watched it all like a spectator too used to be surprised anymore.
I stayed standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, gaze fixed on Mom.
She was waiting for me.
This moment—between getting home and dinner—was ours.
"You picked up Oizys, then?" she asked, without looking up from her cutting board.
"Yeah. We went to the middle school first. Elpis and Epiphron forgot it was Thursday."
"That's not true," Epiphron protested from the living room.
"That's exactly what someone who forgot would say," Hypnos replied.
A light laugh drifted through the room.
Mom smiled, discreetly, then continued:"And Maëlys was with you, right?"
"Yes. I asked her without thinking too much. She said yes after a short silence, but I think it made her happy. It was the first time she saw us… differently. Outside of school."
Mom stopped, wiped her knife blade, then finally looked at me.
"And how did she take it?"
I took a small breath. Not out of fear, but to find the right words.
"I think it surprised her. Seeing that we're… many. Seeing how Thanatos is with Oizys. She didn't say anything, of course. But she watched. And she understood some things you can't explain with words."
Mom nodded in silence, eyes lowered. Then she asked gently:"And today, during P.E.?"
I smiled. That's where she'd wanted to go from the start.
"It was an… intense day."
Hypnos came over, leaned against the island, and added:"There were looks. Lots. Too many. For all of us, but especially for Zoé. And Hemera."
I threw a quick glance at my brother. He has a way of summing things up without flattening them.
"Zoé drew the spotlight like always. And she almost got burned by it."
Mom raised her eyebrows slightly.
"A ball. Right in the face, if Thanatos hadn't stopped it."
A short silence followed.
"He stopped it without taking a step," Hypnos murmured. "And then… he spoke to her."
"Directly?" Epiphron asked, entering the kitchen.
"Very directly," I confirmed. "Not a word too many. Just what was needed. Enough for the entire gym to hear, without raising his voice."
"What did he say?" Elpis called from the living room.
I glanced at Thanatos, still off to the side. He hadn't said a word. But he hadn't left the room.
So I answered, without drama and without irony:"He told her she talks too much. That if she wants attention, she should avoid doing it by risking humiliation."
Another silence. This time, Mom set the knife down. She didn't look angry. Just… attentive.
She wasn't smiling. But she wasn't worried either. Her gaze had simply shifted to Thanatos.
He hadn't spoken. But he was listening. He always listens.
"And how did she react?" Mom asked.
"She didn't say anything right away. But… she came back to talk to us later, at the end of the day."
Hypnos raised a dreamy eyebrow."She tried an apology speech—Zoé style."
"What does that mean?" Epiphron asked.
"A provocation disguised as sincerity."
I laughed softly.
"But she understood. She saw. She's not stupid. She tests limits. And today, she learned that Thanatos has them too."
Mom nodded slowly. Then, in a lower voice:"And you, Hemera? Do you think he was right?"
I didn't hesitate.
"I think he said what no one else could have said. Or wanted to say. He didn't try to crush her. Just set a boundary. And she heard it."
Mother closed her eyes for a second, then opened the oven.
"Then I suppose she's lucky."
She paused, pulled the dish out, and added:"That it's you setting the rules. And not someone else."
The clatter of plates resumed. We set the table. We talked. We lived.
And somewhere behind Thanatos's apparent silence, I knew he was hearing everything. Not because he needed reassurance. But because in this house, his silences were always heard.
Later in the evening, after dinner, when I went upstairs to bed, the house had found its calm again. Voices faded one by one, the lights softened. Oizys was already up, probably asleep for a while. And Thanatos… I knew he was still downstairs.
When I set my phone on the nightstand, the screen lit up.
A message from Maëlys.
Thanks again for today. I know I didn't say much but… it meant a lot to me. It's weird to say, but I felt like I was there. With you. For real.
I smiled, heart a little warmer.
You're one of us, Maëlys. You don't have to prove anything. We're glad you're here.
The three dots appeared. Then vanished.
She didn't reply. She didn't need to.
I put my phone down, the screen went dark. And in the darkness, I could still feel the light weight of her words. This time, she wasn't alone anymore.
The house slept. Or at least, it was close. The lights were only soft halos stretched along the walls. The fire had dwindled to a few silent embers, and the big living-room clock ticked the seconds with an almost affectionate slowness.
I hadn't gone up yet. I stayed in the corner of the living room, half-sitting against the arm of the couch, knees pulled up. Oizys had disappeared long ago, plushie under her arm. She'd just brushed my arm as a goodnight. I didn't stop her. She knew I was staying. She slept better knowing that.
And that's when I sensed her. Not a surprise. Not an intrusion.
Mother. She entered the room without a sound. Barefoot, a light shawl around her shoulders. She didn't wear her usual perfume—the one she puts on when she goes out—but the simpler scent of lavender and clean laundry.
She didn't speak right away. She didn't even look at me.
She sat down. In the chair near the fire. The one where she used to read aloud, back when we were too young to admit we didn't like stories that end well.
She stayed there. A while. Then said simply:"She was scared."
I slowly turned my head toward her.
"Zoé."
She met my eyes. No harshness, no worry.
"Not of you. Of what you showed her."
I didn't answer. Words, in that moment, would have weakened what she'd just stated.
She continued, lower:"You saw her overflowing energy. You saw it might splash onto others. So you stopped it. Cold."
I barely shrugged. A movement as vague as a stifled sigh.
"She doesn't watch where she's putting her feet. It's dangerous. For her. And for the ones she brushes past without realizing."
"And you watch too much," she said softly.
I didn't react. She knew.
"You observe everything, you measure, you analyze. And when it crosses the threshold… you cut. You drop silence."
Silence settled. The real kind—the one that takes over when two minds agree on the essential.
Then she murmured, almost to herself:"You don't want to be seen. But you refuse to be invisible."
I narrowed my eyes. Her gaze slid gently toward me.
"You want to be accepted as you are. But only if others know how to keep their distance. Without noise. Without intrusion."
I finally rested my cheek against the cushion. And said, low:"Is that wrong?"
She smiled. One of those smiles you feel without needing to see.
"No. But it's a chosen solitude that ends up leaving marks—even on those who never asked for them."
I closed my eyes.
She added, after a long pause:"You've grown. But sometimes I still see that look… the one you had at five years old. When you didn't understand why people spoke too loudly, touched too quickly, asked without listening."
She stood up then. And walked over.
I didn't move.
She didn't kiss me. Didn't take me in her arms. She simply placed her hand on my head—a soft, brief pressure. The way you greet a soul, not a child.
"Don't close every door, Thanatos. Some people… know how to come in softly."
And she left. Without waiting for an answer.
I stayed there. Eyes closed. Breath slow. Her words resonated. Not loudly. Not violently. But enough.