The neighborhood returned to silence almost immediately after Juson's car disappeared beyond the final bend in the road. For a few lingering moments, the fading sound of the engine echoed softly between the quiet houses before dissolving into the distant hum of traffic somewhere far beyond the residential streets. Night had settled completely now. The scattered glow of porch lights and street lamps stretched across the empty road, leaving long shadows that remained perfectly still beneath the calm evening sky. Yokina stood for a brief moment outside the gate with Herik resting weakly against her shoulder, watching the direction in which the car had vanished until there was nothing left to see. Only then did she quietly push open the front door and step inside, carefully balancing the child's weight as she entered the familiar darkness of the house. Herik's body felt noticeably heavier than before, not because of any change in size, but because exhaustion had settled into every part of him after the hospital examination. Even his breathing had slowed into long, quiet intervals that made him seem as though he were drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Yokina adjusted her hold around him instinctively before closing the door behind them, hoping that a warm meal and proper rest would finally return some colour to his pale face.
Without pausing in the living room, she carried him directly toward the kitchen, speaking softly as though even ordinary conversation required gentleness now. "I'll bring your food first," she said, more to reassure herself than to expect a response from him. Herik offered none. She carefully lowered him just outside the kitchen entrance so he could lean comfortably against the wall while she prepared his dinner. The refrigerator door opened with a muted sound, spilling pale white light across the otherwise dim floor as Yokina reached inside and removed a bottle of water. After placing it on the counter, she turned toward the dining table where a bowl of prepared food still waited beneath its cover. Her movements remained slow, almost automatic after the emotional strain of the day, and for those few moments her attention stayed entirely upon the simple routine of gathering everything Herik would need. Behind her, the child stood silently in the corridor. His eyes remained fixed somewhere ahead without truly focusing upon anything before him. They drifted neither toward his mother nor toward the kitchen itself. His eyelids lowered heavily, lifted again with visible effort, and then, without speaking a single word, he quietly turned away. His small footsteps produced almost no sound as he wandered slowly out of the kitchen entrance and disappeared deeper into the hallway.
Only after lifting the bowl into her hands did Yokina finally turn around.
The space where Herik had been standing was empty.
She blinked once, momentarily believing he had simply moved a step or two farther away, but the corridor beyond remained still. "Herik?" she called gently before stepping out of the kitchen, the warm bowl balanced carefully between both hands. The hallway remained dim except for the soft yellow glow spilling from the kitchen behind her, allowing only portions of the corridor to emerge from the surrounding darkness. Then she noticed him. Several metres away, Herik sat quietly upon the floor with his back resting against the wall. His head had fallen slightly forward, his eyelids nearly closed as though sleep had overtaken him before he could even reach the bedroom. The sight immediately softened Yokina's expression. Only now did she fully understand how much the MRI examination had exhausted him. Whatever strength he had gathered during the journey home had disappeared completely. She hurried toward him, careful not to spill the food she still carried, before gently placing one hand upon his shoulder. "Come on," she whispered with quiet affection. Herik barely reacted. His body shifted slightly beneath her touch, but he remained too tired even to answer. Realising there was little point encouraging him to walk, Yokina slipped one arm beneath him, lifting him effortlessly while still balancing the bowl carefully in her free hand. Supporting both without complaint, she slowly carried him toward the bedroom.
The room greeted them with complete stillness. Thick curtains covered almost the entire window, allowing only a narrow strip of distant city light to slip through the fabric and paint a faint silver line across one section of the wall. Yokina approached the bed and gently lowered Herik onto the mattress, taking care not to disturb him more than necessary. After adjusting the blanket beneath his shoulders, she placed the untouched bowl upon the small bedside table within easy reach, intending to wake him again in a moment so he could eat before sleeping properly. As she stepped backward toward the doorway, however, something sharp suddenly pressed beneath the sole of her foot. She instinctively withdrew her leg with a small gasp and looked downward. A pin rested upon the wooden floor, half-hidden beneath the dim lighting. Only then did she notice several other small scattered objects still lying across the room exactly where they had remained since the strange events earlier that afternoon. For a long moment she simply stared without moving. Slowly, almost unwillingly, her gaze lifted toward the clock hanging high upon the opposite wall. Its hands moved with steady, perfectly ordinary rhythm, each quiet tick echoing gently through the otherwise silent room as though nothing unusual had ever occurred beneath it. Yokina released a slow breath she hadn't realised she had been holding.
She quietly stepped outside again and returned moments later carrying a floor wiper. Without much thought she began pushing the scattered objects together toward one corner of the room, her tired mind already searching for the easiest solution. "The maid will clean the rest tomorrow..." she murmured absentmindedly beneath her breath. The words had barely left her lips before she froze. Her hands stopped moving. The memory arrived without warning, vivid enough to silence every other thought. The maid's face appeared clearly inside her mind for only an instant before disappearing again, leaving behind nothing except a faint feeling she could not explain. Yokina frowned at herself, almost embarrassed by the careless remark. Without another word, she abandoned the wiper entirely, crouched upon the floor, and began gathering every scattered object carefully with her own hands instead. One by one she picked up the pins and small pieces lying across the room before dropping them into the dustbin beside the bedside table. Only after she had checked the entire floor twice and satisfied herself that nothing sharp remained did she finally straighten her back again and move quietly toward the bedroom door.
Her fingers had already reached for the handle when another thought interrupted her.
The water bottle.
She had left it outside in the corridor after taking it from the refrigerator.
For a brief moment she considered walking back to retrieve it. The bottle remained only a short distance away, and Herik would almost certainly need water if he woke during the night. Yet the weight pressing behind her own eyes had become almost unbearable. Every emotion she had carried since morning, every moment of fear inside the hospital, every unanswered question surrounding Herik had settled into pure physical exhaustion. She stood motionless for several seconds before quietly surrendering to it. Instead of returning to the corridor, she walked back toward the bed.
Herik had already fallen asleep.
His breathing remained slow and even, his face resting peacefully against the pillow despite the untouched bowl beside him. Yokina climbed carefully onto the mattress and sat beside him, studying him silently for a long moment before leaning closer. "Herik," she whispered gently, hoping he might still wake enough to eat a little. The child answered only with the faintest movement. She placed one hand lightly upon his shoulder and shook him with great care. "You need to eat something first." Herik's eyelids never opened. A barely audible murmur escaped him instead. "I don't want to..." The words dissolved almost immediately into another slow breath. Yokina continued watching him for several quiet seconds, uncertain whether to insist or simply allow him the rest his body seemed to demand. At last she leaned back slowly against the headboard, convincing herself she would only close her eyes for a single minute before trying again.
Outside, the already distant traffic faded further into the night until even that faint sound disappeared completely. Within the quiet bedroom, mother and son surrendered almost simultaneously to overwhelming exhaustion. Sleep came gently, without either of them noticing the moment it arrived. The untouched bowl remained waiting beside the bed exactly where Yokina had placed it. The forgotten bottle of water stayed alone in the dark corridor outside. And somewhere beyond the silent streets stretching away from the house, Juson continued driving steadily through the night toward Hakiten's home, unaware that his own family now slept beneath a roof growing quieter with every passing hour.