In the apartment's cool corridor, I hesitated as I was about to put the key in the lock. The café's warmth lingered with Felissia's grateful smile and the memory of Ella's fingers in my hair. Inside my battlefield mind, there was calm for the first time. But I knew this calm was fragile. The moment I stepped through the door, my old enemy would return with the loneliness: my own voice.
My hand hung suspended at the lock. Here it was starting again. Those exhausting analysis sessions that replayed every moment like a film strip, weighing every word, criticizing every action. "Stroking Ella's head? What an impulsive and stupid move. What if she misunderstood? Or speaking so definitively to Felissia... You might have made her even more tense. And Cassius... You took his coat, gave him yours. What will he do with your coat now? Awkward."
I took a deep breath. How can I break this habit of talking to myself? It was like a curse. But then I remembered that café moment. When I responded to Ella's sweet anger... I hadn't thought then. Just felt and acted. When I acted from within, this voice fell silent. Maybe the solution wasn't this... Maybe if I imagined talking to someone else instead of myself, these obsessive analyses would decrease.
The absurdity of the thought spread across my face as a bitter smile. "What am I talking about?" I whispered to the silent corridor. "Is there anyone who hears and feels these thoughts?" But then that curious, experiment-loving part of me raised its eyebrows. "Why don't you try it?"
I let out a small laugh. If it's madness, let's go all the way.
"Very well," I said, my voice louder than a whisper. I closed my eyes and addressed that invisible crowd in my mind. "Yes, this is my first address to many of you. I assume you know what I did today down to the finest detail." I paused. "But I think there's a detail I missed. You probably thought I skipped distance learning classes and went for hot chocolate, right? Just like last week."
I felt the need to defend myself. "It didn't happen that way this time. I made a request to my mother for this. Although it wasn't as difficult as last week, you should know she attended today's classes instead of me. I know this isn't exactly morally right, but it's better than not attending at all."
Pouring my heart out felt strangely good. I continued. "Actually, sometimes I even question going to university. When I read old lecture notes or library books and see the questions, I can grasp subjects instantly. To be honest, professors don't add much to me. But... I'm in the most suitable environment for developing my 'new me' project. People, relationships, chaos... These aren't written in books."
At the end of my words, I felt deep emptiness. I opened my eyes. "Ugh, this is so stupid," I grumbled to myself. "Who was I talking to just now and why did I make such a long explanation? This new escape mechanism is completely meaningless."
Just as I was about to turn the key, the lock clicked from inside and slowly opened. My mother Aurelia stood at the threshold with a cup of tea in her hand. On her face was that mocking smile that was both compassionate and all-knowing.
"Octavian?" she said, her voice gentle. "What are you doing in front of the door like that? Were you talking to yourself again?"
I felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment. "Yes, mother," I mumbled, averting my gaze.
Mother smiled, put her cup on the small corridor table, and wrapped her arms around me. It was warm and reassuring. "When you're so honest and vulnerable with me," she whispered into my hair. "You become like that little, honest son of mine again in my eyes."
I pulled back slightly in her arms. "Mother, I'm too big to be a baby anymore." Despite the complaint in my voice, I had enjoyed this moment.
"Today was difficult," I continued with a sigh. "There are too many things I need to think about." A storm was raging in my mind. I think it's still too early to be overly positive. I need to make a plan first. I don't think I'll be completely relieved no matter who I open my heart to right now. No one can fix me completely anyway.
Ella's calm smile came to mind for a moment. She would calm me down, yes... But she can't fix my situation.
Just then, from the depths of my mind, I heard a clear and calm voice that didn't belong to me. "I know who can fix you."
I froze. No... am I now hearing voices from inside my head?
Before I could understand what was happening, I was startled by arms reaching from behind and wrapping around my waist. This wasn't like mother's embrace; it was more familiar, more energetic. The vanilla and lavender scent that filled the air triggered a memory I hadn't forgotten for years.
"Octavian, my dear."
This voice... This scent... This feeling...
"Sister Neirlys?" I whispered in disbelief. When I turned around with joy, I faced my cousin smiling at me with her flame-red hair and emerald green eyes. I immediately wrapped my arms around her. I hugged her tightly with months of longing.
"My favorite cousin," I said, with a silly grin on my face. I pulled back and looked at her. "The five-year age gap between us is gradually closing. Look, my height finally surpassed yours."
Neirlys laughed, her voice like a melody. "Don't get cocky just because you've grown a little, little one."
I responded to her teasing with a smile. "Anyway... Tell me, why did you come, sister? What are you doing here?"
"I came to visit you, of course," she said cheerfully. "I just returned from abroad, the plane came directly to Apexia. I wanted my first stop to be you. By the way," she said, pointing to a package on the living room couch. "Father sent you these."
"Uncle Alaric?" I asked curiously. When I opened the package, a latest model smart watch and several books came out. One book cover caught my attention. "The Path of Edgium: The Rise of Aetron." "Do you remember this series?" Neirlys said with a wink.
I smiled. "Isn't this the fantasy story where your name comes from?"
Just then, a strange moment from today came to mind. "Sister, something occurred to me. The other day coming back from school, I tripped and fell on the road. A strange couple came to help me up. One was brown-haired with reddish-brown eyes. Next to him was a woman in her thirties with flame-red hair and green eyes, just like you. She said her name was Neirlys." I paused. "The strangest thing was, the man said 'Give my regards to your uncle' as he left. I just remembered now."
Neirlys burst out laughing. "It must be one of father's crazy fan friends," she said with tears in her eyes. "Since his wife's name is the same as mine, they must have met at a fan event with father."
What she said was so absurd but equally logical that I started laughing too. "Yes, that's a logical explanation."
Neirlys patted my shoulder. "What else did you expect? Aetron and Neirlys from the stories can't exactly come out of the book to pick you up from the road."
As our laughter echoed in the living room, we both turned toward a voice from her room. My sister Marcella was leaning against the doorframe with sleepy eyes and disheveled blonde hair, arms crossed over her chest. There was fake anger on her face.
"You didn't welcome me so warmly, Sister Neirlys," she said, pouting. Then her gaze turned to me, her complaint increased. "Why don't you love me so much, brother? Your face lights up when your cousin comes."
Normally, I would either remain silent or deflect such complaints. But something was different tonight. Sister Neirlys's presence had given me forgotten courage. I walked toward Marcella and did something she didn't expect; I reached out and fixed her disheveled hair.
"Because everyone in this family already loves you more, golden girl," I said, the sincerity in my voice surprising even myself. "You're both sweet and beautiful. Let Sister Neirlys love me a little too."
Marcella froze. Her eyes widened with surprise. This was sincere affection she hadn't heard from me in years. Neirlys was also watching us with a smile.
"Did something happen at school?" asked Neirlys, changing the subject. "Aunt was a bit worried."
I sighed. "More or less... A troublesome professor put me together with the school's most incompatible types and gave us an impossible project. It's obviously a trap. There's also a sneaky girl named Luna behind it." I turned to Neirlys. "But please, don't tell uncle about this. I can take care of myself. Promise?"
Neirlys nodded. "Promise."
Just then Marcella intervened, with a mischievous smile. "You're not going to sleep cuddled up with Octavian again tonight, are you, sister?"
Neirlys didn't hesitate to score this goal. "Why not?" she said, approaching me and planting a loud kiss on my cheek. "In my eyes, he's still a little, cuddly child."
As my cheeks reddened, I tried to object, "Yes, sister, but I've grown up a lot now."
Marcella immediately went into jealousy mode and clung to my arm. "No, he's my brother," she said, pulling me toward herself.
Mother Aurelia was watching this whole scene with pleasure from the kitchen door. I was caught in the middle of three; Neirlys on one side, Marcella on the other. A more relaxed smile than I had felt in years appeared on my face.
"I think my popularity era has finally begun," I joked.
Mother's eyes sparkled with the joy of seeing her son carefree and happy for the first time after a long break.
[That Evening - The Octavians' Living Room - Sister Neirlys's Perspective]
As our laughter echoed in the living room like a warm melody, I was looking at Octavian standing at the center of the moment. Marcella clung to one arm like a little koala, and I was pulling his other arm. On his face was that carefree, sincere smile I had longed to see for years.
Aunt Aurelia leaned against the kitchen door, her eyes sparkling as she watched her children in this state. This moment was like a perfect family picture, and I felt indescribable happiness being part of it. But behind that smile, there was another world that I knew, that no one could fully see. Octavian's world.
I remember the first moment I saw him as if it were yesterday. I was six, fed up with my twin brothers' endless noise and chaos, when I came to aunt's house. Aunt greeted me with a tiny, swaddled baby in her arms. When I met those serious, scrutinizing dark eyes looking at me from that tiny face, I realized something I had never felt before was sprouting inside me. This was pure love mixed with protective instinct. How different he was from my mischievous twins! Even then, he seemed like a wise soul carrying all the world's weight on his shoulders. That day, he became not my little cousin, but my confidant, my most precious treasure to protect.
This feeling never changed as we grew up. Octavian was smart, more than enough. Reading a subject once was sufficient. But this intelligence was balanced with sharp justice sense and anger ready to explode against injustice. I'll never forget that park day when he saw an older child take a toy from a smaller one's hand.
He was only seven. While my twins didn't care about the situation, Octavian had intervened without thought, standing up to a child twice his size. "That's his!" he had shouted, voice trembling but with steel-like determination in his eyes. He had been beaten that day but was never sorry. He was that child who always stood by the weak, who couldn't tolerate injustice.
But these heroic acts had a price. Other children excluded him. Especially because he was a bit chubby when little. "Fat Octavian," they would shout after him. He would wear these words like armor and walk away with no expression. But I knew. I could see how much he was broken under that armor, how those words opened deep wounds in his soul. His appearance obsession started in those days. He would comb his hair for hours in front of mirrors, making sure clothes fit perfectly before stepping outside. As if he believed that creating a perfect image would prevent anyone from calling him those ugly words.
Our most intimate moments were nights he stayed with us. When we turned off lights, when darkness melted his armor, he would snuggle up to me in bed and start talking in whispers. Those whispers carried fears, disappointments, and anxieties he showed no one during the day.
"No one understands me, Sister Neirlys," he would say. "It's like I'm speaking a different language." And I would hug him every time and say, "I understand. And these secrets are safe with me. I won't tell anyone. Promise." Those words were the foundation of our invisible bond. I know the nights when he would lay his head on my chest and cry silently, swallowing his sobs. In those moments, he wasn't that smart, angry child; he was just a little, wounded soul who wanted to be understood, who wanted to be loved.
Now I'm looking at this young man standing before me. His height has surpassed mine, shoulders have broadened. Sharp facial features have replaced childish chubby cheeks. But his eyes... His eyes are still the same. Still those wise and tired looks that weigh everything, think of every possibility. The sincerity when he said to Marcella "Everyone in this family already loves you more" was a sentence the old Octavian could never have formed. When I last saw him last year, the walls he had built around himself were so high that even getting close was impossible. Now, it's as if windows have opened in those walls, even a door has been cracked. This is definitely progress.
But that tension in his voice when telling about school, that "I have to handle everything myself" attitude when making me promise not to tell uncle... These are reflections of that old, wounded child. He's still wearing that armor. Still wants to shoulder everything alone.
I think his 'new me' project isn't just about learning how to talk to people. The real project is forgiving and loving that little child who only sees flaws when looking in mirrors. And I will always be by his side on this journey. Just as I kept secrets he whispered in those dark nights, I'm here now to stand by him and lighten the burden on his shoulders. Because he is my most precious treasure that I must always protect.
[Same Time - The Octavians' Living Room]
Night's silence had slowly taken over the house. Mother and father had retreated to their rooms, leaving only dim light from moonlight and street lamps in the living room. Marcella had insisted so much on sleeping with Sister Neirlys that I finally left the wide couch to them and curled up in the single armchair. Marcella had already fallen asleep, head resting on my sister's shoulder. I couldn't take my eyes off them.
Having Sister Neirlys here was like an anchor that calmed the storm in my mind. She was my safe harbor. Next to her, my constantly working, analyzing brain finally fell silent. Tonight I didn't want to make project plans or think about Luna's moves. I just wanted to feel this moment's peace.
The silence was broken by my sister's whisper. "Why didn't you ever call, Octavian?" Her eyes sparkled with affection even in darkness. "We haven't talked properly for months."
With this question, I felt that familiar wall rising inside me again. "I didn't want to upset you with boring things, sister," I mumbled, voice hoarse with guilt. "You're the only person who has been listening to me and supporting me for years anyway. I didn't want to burden you by constantly telling you my troubles."
Neirlys gently placed sleeping Marcella's head on a pillow and quietly got up. She sat next to me, on the edge of the armchair where I was curled up. Without saying anything, she wrapped her arms around me and gently pressed my head to her chest. As she stroked my hair, that familiar vanilla and lavender scent surrounded me again.
"You've grown older, and so have I," she whispered. "But you're still the same value to me. And you're never a burden to me. Thinking like that... even upset me."
Without lifting my head, I spoke in that safe warmth. "But my problems are so... meaningless."
"Let's think of it this way," she said, voice calm. "If I told you my troubles, would you think 'Sister Neirlys is being a burden to me again,' or would you want to listen and help her?"
The answer was so clear that I didn't hesitate for a moment. "Of course I'd want to listen."
"There," she said, hugging me tighter. "That's our bond too. Taking support from loved ones and trying to find the right path with them isn't wrong. But don't forget this," she said, there was a mischievous tone in her voice. "I can't always be physically by your side... unless you marry me, of course."
I couldn't help but laugh at this sudden and absurd joke. I lifted my head from her chest. "Sister!"
Her eyes sparkled. "But you're always in my heart," she continued, this time voice serious. "And whatever your problem is, keep sharing it with me. In fact... maybe it's time for you to open your heart to others too. Appearance and image are things you can present to everyone. But opening your heart is the hardest thing for you and the right thing you need to do." She held my hand. "Trust me more, okay? And trust yourself too."
At that moment, I hugged her tighter with the gratitude building inside me. "You trust me too, sister," I whispered. "I'm going to be amazing."
Neirlys stroked my hair, voice full of affection. "You were always amazing, Octavian," she said. "You're just too harsh on yourself."
These last words seemed to untie that final knot inside me. As years of fatigue settled on my shoulders, my head fell back to her chest. My eyes grew heavy. As I listened to her reassuring heartbeat, I felt like I had become that little, scared but safe child again.
Just before falling asleep, I heard her whisper. My sister had turned to Marcella sleeping beside her.
"I'm sorry, golden girl," she said affectionately. "But this baby needs more love tonight."