The kitchen was filled with the scent of freshly cut herbs and vegetables. Although the sun hadn't yet set completely, the light was beginning to fade, casting a soft gray hue over the room. The hanging lamp, with its warm yellow light—though still dim—bathed the space in a false sense of calm, as if, for a moment, the outside world had ceased to exist.
Arika stood by the wooden counter, focused on the task she herself had insisted on doing. She had convinced Stella that she wanted to help with dinner, assuring her that she felt much better. Stella, somewhat hesitant, had agreed on the condition that she not push herself too hard, and left the kitchen in her hands while she went upstairs with Reize to bathe the children.
The house was quiet. All that could be heard was the soft splashing of water and distant laughter from the bathroom. A tense, yet real, peace. However, inside Arika, something was stirring.
With a steady hand, she held the knife over a carrot, slicing it into thin, even rounds. Her breathing was controlled, measured… at least on the surface.
—Why? —she whispered softly, barely audible.
She set the knife down on the cutting board and stared at it, mesmerized by the reflection of the polished steel.
—What's happening to me?
There was something about her body, about her mind… something that frightened her more than the infected. Thoughts that weren't her own, impulses that sprang from nowhere. She remembered that moment in the rain, how she'd lost control, becoming a stranger to herself. There were no wounds on her body afterward. None. Just a deep exhaustion, as if something invisible had drained her of energy.
And now… that emptiness. That persistent doubt that wouldn't leave her alone.
Without thinking too much about it, she slid the knife against her index finger. A small, clean cut. The pain was minimal. She stared intently, waiting.
One… two… three seconds.
Nothing.
The cut wouldn't disappear. It was still there, reddish, with a thin trickle of blood slowly sliding down her skin.
—It's not healing…
Then, she heard footsteps approaching. She tensed. Too late.
—Arika? —Koen's voice broke the silence just as he entered the kitchen—. Are you—?
He stopped short when he saw the scarlet drop fall to the floor.
—What did you do?! —he said, moving toward her immediately.
She pulled her hand away instinctively, but he had already seen it.
—Koen… I… —she stammered—. I just wanted to check if… if it would heal like before.
Koen's expression changed. It was no longer just concern, but a mixture of helplessness and sadness.
—You promised me you wouldn't hurt yourself.
—I know… —she murmured, looking away—. But I can't ignore it. Something is changing inside me, Koen… and I need to understand what it is.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he rummaged through the kitchen drawers until he found a piece of gauze and some adhesive tape, and carefully wrapped her injured finger.
—There are ways to get answers, Arika —he said as he worked—. But this isn't the way. Not if you hurt yourself to understand it.
She pressed her lips together, feeling her shoulders tremble. Not from physical pain, but from the feeling of vulnerability. No one had ever treated her with such calm before… with such patience.
—I'm sorry —she said softly, lowering her head.
Koen lifted her face with a gentle hand, forcing her to look at him.
—I'll help you figure out what's wrong. You're not alone in this… but don't ever do something like that again. Okay?
Arika nodded, moved.
—Thank you.
—Now, let me help you with dinner. Chopping vegetables is at least something I can do without messing up.
She smiled softly.
—It's not necessary…
—I insist. Or I'll risk you cutting yourself again.
They both laughed, and the atmosphere lightened up. Koen picked up another knife and began to help her, following her instructions. The minutes passed unhurriedly, and together they prepared the stew carefully and without saying much, enjoying a brief respite. Little by little, the room filled with the scent of the stew they were cooking—a warm, homey aroma… almost enough to make them forget everything else.
An hour later, when the dishes were almost ready and the aroma of dinner filled the house, Arika noticed that her bandage had become stained from the humidity and heat of the kitchen. She went to the sink and carefully began to remove it to change it.
But as she pulled off the last piece of tape… she froze.
There was no wound.
Nothing. Not even a mark.
Just smooth, perfect skin, as if she had never cut herself.
—It can't be…
At that moment, Koen approached her from behind, holding the cutlery for the table.
—Arika, where are the…?
He stopped short when he saw Arika's finger. The bandage hung limply in his other hand. His expression tensed, immediately understanding what it meant.
—Your finger… —susurró.
She looked at him, just as surprised.
—I only had it for a short while… how is that possible?
Koen stepped closer and gently took her hand. He turned her finger between his own, examining it. There was no trace of blood, not even a single drop.
—This is… —he began to say, but then they heard the dull thud of the back door slamming shut.
They both froze.
—They're back —Koen said, letting go of her hand—. We'll talk about this later.
Arika nodded, still dazed, but forcing her face to remain calm.
The two left the kitchen, just as the laughter and weary voices of those who had gone out began to fill the house once more.
Yet something invisible hung in the air between them.
A truth neither of them fully understood, but which they could no longer ignore.
Arika knew it. And so did Koen.
When they reached the living room, they were met with a welcoming scene for those who had returned.
Hael greeted them with an expression of genuine relief. Behind him, Althea peeked out with Max in her arms, and coming down the stairs were Reize and Stella.
—They're back! —Althea said, with a cheerful smile.
—And in one piece —added Koen, approaching the group and lowering his voice when he saw Ethan's injured face—. Well… almost.
—What happened to you? —asked Althea, stepping closer.
Ethan shrugged.
—A battle wound. But nothing serious.
Delma stepped forward and ruffled his hair with a teasing smile.
—He cut himself off. He's got a rare talent.
—Hey! —Ethan protested —. I was surrounded. It wasn't as easy as it looks!
—Sure, sure… —Delma muttered, taking off her backpack.
Then little Althea, still holding Max in her arms, walked over to Delma. She looked at her with those big, sincere eyes.
—I'm glad you came back… promise me you'll take me with you next time.
Delma crouched down until she was at her level. She gently stroked her tousled hair.
—Of course —she replied softly.
Reize approached at that moment, shooting a glance at Ethan.
—You'd better come back in one piece next time.
Ethan burst out laughing, relieved by the lighter tone.
—I hope so.
Behind everyone, Hael crossed his arms and shot a serious look at Elion.
—Elion, the next time you guys go out… don't even think about coming back like Ethan.
Elion laughed, caught up in the energy of the moment.
—I promise.
—Hey! —Ethan protested, feigning offense —. It was many against one! You should be grateful I came back with everything in one piece.
With a dramatic sigh, he flopped down on the couch.
—So? What did I miss around here?
—Koen making paper animals —Hael chimed in with a mischievous smile —. Though they were uglier than the infected ones.
Koen snorted, rolling his eyes.
—Just you wait. Someday I'll make one that flies.
—When that happens —Hael said, pointing at him solemnly—. I'll applaud with my ears.
—I'd love to see that! —Althea laughed, hugging Max tightly.
The room erupted in laughter. Little by little, everyone began to settle in, sharing stories and jokes while outside the sun finished setting. Soon it would be time to light the lamps, review the maps, and plan the next steps.