By Sumaiya T Ahmed
Lady Night slowly—very slowly—opened her eyes from a deep slumber. Her dress, stitched from the endless sky, faded from dazzling dark nightgown into a deep blue—a color as heavy as the dream fairies sitting on her long lashes. Her deep, slow breaths turned shallow and warm. The air flowed through mountains, danced among trees, and swept over a small village on Lady Daybreak's bed.
A house at the village's edge—nothing more than a speck of dust beneath the blue heavens—stood its ground alone and friendless, surrounded by abundant nature. Minty grass at its feet, heavy with pearly dew, tossed to and fro in the breeze.
The fresh scent tickled the nose of its inhabitant: Caramella, a frail girl in her early teens. She pulled herself up from bed, her bones prominent beneath a loose white top, her sleepless eyes glancing through a broken window.
The violets in her garden had finally sprouted. Birds were already pecking at them.
She could strangely relate to the violets—a flower at risk of vanishing before it had a chance to bloom.
Light on her toes, Caramella slipped into the kitchen, careful not to disturb the pin-drop silence. She checked the basket: a few carrots, some potatoes, and scraps rolling around.
There's not much...
How I wish I could see Louis and Maria eat to their heart's content.
She cut the vegetables. The knife felt heavy. Her hands no longer had the strength they once did. Over the sizzling of the pan, she could almost hear the laughter of her siblings inside her head.
Those two must be awake by now... they're such good kids.
She set out the carved wooden plates made by their late father. She poured the hot curry to cool—it was too warm for her siblings when it was right out of the pot.
After what should have been a quick sweep of the floor yet took ages, she sat down to rest, smiling bitterly as she noticed her irregular breath and heartbeat.
I can't believe I can't tolerate even the bare minimum of labor...
She leaned back and closed her eyes. The morning sunlight - with its soft golden glow - waded through the curtains, falling warm on her lap. Lady Morning watched her with a curious heart, unable to understand the mind of a girl who seemed to be fading like the lingering sound of a long-lost melody.
From the other room, two little angels emerged. Louis and Maria, seven-year-old twins, noticed the clean floor, the food on the table... and their sister, resting in a chair. She was only a few feet away, yet somehow felt untouchable—like the stars in the sky, ready to disappear in the sunlight.
No!
The thought of her disappearing made their small hearts throb in pain. Tears welled in their eyes. They ran to her, as if to anchor her to this world.
Caramella opened her eyes to find the two of them burying their faces in her lap, sobbing. She didn't ask why—she already knew.
If I embrace them, it'll only be harder for them to let me go... so what do I do?
They cried a little longer, then looked up at her, searching for something in her expression. There was no pity, no denial—only a quiet message:
Stand on your own feet.
They quietly washed up at the sink. Caramella watched in silence, her heart aching at their tears and her throat burning with held-back sobs.
For their sake... I cannot cry.
For their sake, I mustn't cry.
Or they won't be able to move on...
They ate in silence, sneaking glances at her. She returned each one with a smile.
"Aren't you going to eat, Sister?" Louis asked.
"I already ate while cooking," she replied.
"Really?"
"Of course."
They eyed the sink and noticed her plate was there, unwashed—they couldn't completely believe her, but they said nothing.
"Shouldn't you rest a bit?"
Rest...
Caramella's gaze softened. "I'm fine. I'll rest later."
That's right... I'll rest a bit later. A long, long rest...
So until then, let me watch you a little longer. Just a little longer...
The twins cleaned up after themselves while Caramella observed in silence. And Lady Morning watched her with bated breath.
As the day grew brighter, Louis and Maria played in the garden, caring for the flowers and vegetables. Caramella watched through the window.
Lady Afternoon arrived quietly. The twins returned from the garden.
"Sister... can't we stay here? Must we go to that grandpa's house?"
"It's only until you're grown up."
"What about this house?"
"He promised to take care of it until you two are eighteen."
They had this conversation every day.
"While you're there," she told them, "Always support and trust each other. No one is more important than your family. But you already know that don't you?"
They nodded.
When Sister speaks like that... it feels like she's going to vanish...
"Please... don't say any more," Maria whispered, eyes glistening.
Caramella sighed and smiled.
In the evening, they snacked on fruit and studied. Caramella helped them with their lessons, occasionally correcting mistakes.
Ba-dump!
Her heart thumped sharply. Breathing became difficult. She tried to hide it, but the twins noticed immediately. They rushed to her side, helping her to her bed. Caramella looked at their anxious faces as they held back tears.
Seeing that, she felt a stabbing pain in her chest.
She used all her strength to smile.
No point saying, "I'm fine," but still...
"I'm fine... Remember to get the doctor first thing in the morning... Understand? Don't go outside at night. Promise me..."
She told them to go to bed.
Hours passed. They eventually returned.
They must've fallen asleep waiting.
The moonlight spilled into her room. Her skin, soaked with sweat, now felt cold. Her searing pain had dulled into numbness. The night was quiet. The moon looked closer than ever—like she could touch it.
In the moon's glow, she could almost see the shadows of her parents.
Her eyes widened.
"You're really here." she whispered with joy, tears choking her voice. "Thank you for watching over us."
They're here... but...
The light poured in. Angelic voices sang softly, growing louder.
And yet...
Her long-held tears slipped down her cheeks.
And yet...
She saw the smiling faces of Louis and Maria—the ones for whom she'd given everything. Her reason for this early death. A sacrifice she never regretted.
And yet... I don't want to leave them.
I thought I was ready... So why do I want to stay? Why do I still feel this way?
The light engulfed her. The voices faded into silence.
The night was quiet and beautiful. And the trees whispered to each other a tale of the purest kind of love—a sister's love.