Saturday morning, they left the apartment they still shared a bit too quiet for two twenty-six-year-olds who should have learned to live separately by now.
In the car, Elia drove with one hand, steady and precise, the other resting on the gear stick with a surgeon's calm.Allia watched the landscape shimmer past, her eyelids heavy with a kind of fatigue she could never quite name.
"You could've told them we'd come another time," she murmured.
"They were worried," Elia replied simply. "We can't avoid everything."
Allia didn't know whether we meant you, me… or us.
With Elia, everything was always plural. Even when it shouldn't be.
Their parents' house hadn't changed at all: the same pastel curtains, the same worn-out rug, the same warm scent of coffee and laundry detergent. Their mother appeared first, wrapping them both in a joyful embrace, while their father smiled quietly from the doorway.
They settled in the living room, surrounded by photos older than their memories.
Conversation drifted over their jobs, the city, the grandparents' health.
Then came the question that always turned Allia into stone.
"So… are you seeing anyone?" their mother asked, feigning innocence.
A small silence dropped over the room.
"You know, you're starting to reach the age…"
Allia attempted a smile, her fingers tightening around her glass of water.
"For me… it's complicated."
She didn't want to lie. But she could never tell the truth.
There had been boysand even a girl, oncebut nothing had ever lasted.
She was fifteen when she had kissed Mathis behind the school gym.She could still remember the taste of mint, his shy hand brushing her cheek.
The next day, he barely looked at her.
A week later, he broke up with a cold, clipped message.
She spent nights wondering what she had done wrong.
A month later, she understood.
Elia had entered her room one evening, sat on her bed with her unsettling calm.
"He wasn't right for you," she had simply said.
Allia never had proof, but she felt something had happened between themsomething she wasn't allowed to know.
Then came Louise, in university. Bright, warm, radiant Louise.
They went out for a drink, talked until the bar closed.The next day, Louise was distant, nervous, almost guilty.
"You said you were fragile…" she had mumbled."That you were scared I might hurt you."
Allia remembered the chill that had cut straight through her that day, sharper than shame.
And Jonas… Jonas who had really mattered.
The night he met Elia, everything shifted.
He never told her what had happened.He just disappeared, like the others, with that same silent fear in his eyes.
Sitting in her parents' living room, Allia fought to keep her face neutral.Her heart, however, was beating too fast.
"It'll happen when it happens," she said. "I'm not in a rush."
Her mother hugged her gently.
At her side, Elia drank her tea in silence, her eyes fixed on her sister with a calm that bordered on insolent.
That look…
Allia had always feared it, just a little.
Not because it was violentbut because it was tender.
A tenderness too possessive, too absolute.
She looked away, but Elia's lips curved in the faintest smile.
A smile their parents didn't notice.
A smile that said, silently:
No one will ever have you the way I do, Allia.
And in the warm air scented with coffee, Allia suddenly knew:
No matter her age,no matter how much time passed,nothing absolutely nothing had changed.
The family house appeared at the end of the street, unchanged.The green shutters, a little faded.The sun-worn façade.The stubborn rosebush their mother refused to replace, even though it barely bloomed anymore.
Allia slowed as she walked up the driveway, her bag tapping gently against her hip.Beside her, Elia moved in silence, as she always did when they came here.Allia felt her presence immediately steady, solid. A piece of childhood still intact.
"It feels like nothing changed," Allia whispered.
Elia only exhaled a soft, amused breath.
Allia knocked twice before pushing open the door.
The handle turned almost instantly, revealing their mother's radiant face.
"My darling!" she said, pulling her into her arms.
Allia smiled, letting herself melt into that warmth she had missed far more than she admitted.She stepped aside to let Elia enter.
Elia walked past her, silent, her eyes narrowing slightly as if the light bothered her.
"We're here," Allia murmured, closing the door behind them.
In the kitchen, everything was already set.
Their father looked up from the table and grinned broadly.
"Ah, there you are!" he said cheerfully.
Elia took a seat next to Allia, pulling her chair without a sound.
She folded her arms, staring at the ceiling for a moment, lost somewhere Allia couldn't reach.
A discreet nudge from Allia brought her back.
Their mother circled the table, placing steaming dishes in front of them.She placed the salad in front of Elia she usually liked it though she didn't say her name. It was just a familiar gesture.
"It looks delicious," Allia murmured.
Lunch began in a warm, familiar atmosphere.
Her father shared small stories from the weeka wiring issue in the garage, a chatty neighbor, a football match on TV.
Allia replied, nodding, smiling.She felt Elia beside her, calm, relaxed, picking at her plate with absent-minded ease.
"How's work?" her father asked suddenly as he cut his bread.
"It's fine," Allia replied.
Elia lifted her gaze just a little, as if to verify the answer.
Allia gave her a small smile.Work was fine though the last few days had been… complicated.
The conversation flowed on.
Their mother asked whether she was eating well, not overworking, sleeping better.
Simple questions. Gentle ones.
Elia stayed silent. But Allia knew she listened.
After dessert, her mother served tea and cake, visibly emotional to have them home.
Allia felt guilty she hadn't visited sooner.
When it was time to go, Allia reached for her coat.
Elia was already by the front door, ready to leave as usual.
Their mother approached Allia quietly.
She cupped her daughter's cheeka tender gesture she hadn't used in years.
"Wait."
Allia paused.
"Yes?"
Her mother hugged her softly.Then, in a trembling whisper:
"You… you're taking your medication, right, sweetheart?"
Allia blinked, surprised.
Then she let out a soft laugh, thinking she understood.
"Yes, mom. Don't worry. It's just for anxiety, you know that."
Her mother nodded, but didn't let her go right away.
It was a long hug longer than usual.Almost worried.
When Allia finally stepped back, her father watched her from the hallway, hands in his pockets, tired eyes softened with love.
She joined Elia at the door.
As Allia stepped outside, a small shiver crawled up her neckan emotion she couldn't define, not yet an alarm.
Just… something she pushed away immediately.
After all, she wasn't alone.
Elia was right there.
As always.