Evening came faster than expected.
---
When you're laughing with family…
Time doesn't move—
It disappears.
---
The sun had already dipped low beyond the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and fading gold.
Warm light filtered through the windows.
The house felt alive.
---
My father had… almost burned the kitchen down.
---
"…It was intentional," he claimed.
---
It wasn't.
---
Five medium cakes sat on the table.
Slightly overcooked.
Edges darker than they should be.
---
And one large cake—
Carefully made.
Decorated with sliced fruits of different colors.
Clearly made with more effort.
---
"For your mother," he had said proudly.
---
The air smelled sweet.
Warm.
Comforting.
---
We were laughing.
Talking.
Living in the moment.
---
So much that—
We didn't even notice…
---
"…he's not back yet."
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Silence.
Just for a second.
---
Then—
Click.
---
The door opened.
---
All of us turned at once.
---
Standing at the entrance—
Was my brother.
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Azharyon.
---
Bruised.
Dirty.
Clothes torn slightly at the edges.
Hair messy.
Breathing steady—but heavy.
---
His eyes scanned the room.
---
Confusion.
---
Then—
He saw us.
---
Smiling.
---
Waiting.
---
Step.
---
He walked in slowly.
---
Click.
---
The door closed behind him.
---
"…What did I miss?" he muttered.
---
A small smile formed on his face—
Forced.
But trying.
---
He walked toward the table.
---
About to sit—
---
But my father glanced at him.
---
Just one look.
---
Firm.
Clear.
---
"…Go clean up."
---
Azharyon paused.
Scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
---
"…Right."
---
SWISH—!!!
---
Gone.
---
Twenty minutes later—
He returned.
---
Clean.
Fresh clothes.
Hair slightly damp.
Bruises still there—but less obvious.
---
This time—
He sat beside me.
---
And slowly—
The atmosphere pulled him in.
---
Laughter.
Warmth.
Noise.
---
It didn't take long.
---
Soon—
He was laughing too.
---
My father stood.
Picked up a knife.
---
With exaggerated seriousness—
He began cutting the cakes.
---
Perfect slices.
Precise.
Almost artistic.
---
"One for each of you…"
He said dramatically.
---
Then pushed a plate toward each of us.
---
And the biggest one—
Toward my mother.
---
We waited.
---
She smiled.
Bright.
Genuine.
---
Picked up a piece.
---
Then—
Without warning—
She grabbed another piece from my father's plate.
---
And—
---
Stuffed both into her mouth at once.
---
Silence.
---
Then—
Her cheeks puffed up.
---
Her expression—
Ridiculous.
---
My father blinked.
---
"…Really?"
---
And then—
---
We lost it.
---
Laughter exploded.
---
She tried to hold it in—
Failed.
---
Muffled sounds escaped her as she laughed through a mouth full of cake.
---
Crumbs stuck to her face.
---
My father shook his head—
Then burst out laughing too.
---
"You really outdid yourself…" she managed to say between laughs.
"…but the bottom tastes like burning storm."
---
That made it worse.
---
We laughed harder.
---
Tears formed.
---
My stomach hurt.
---
My brother leaned back, holding his sides.
---
"…It's actually good!" I said, taking a bite.
---
The flavor—
Exploded.
---
Sweet.
Warm.
Balanced.
---
"…This is amazing."
---
My brother froze mid-bite.
Then nodded aggressively.
---
"Yeah—this is seriously good!"
---
We looked at each other—
Faces already messy.
---
And burst into laughter again.
---
My parents joined instantly.
---
"You see?" my mother said proudly.
"We'd be laughing all night if he was here."
---
My father folded his arms dramatically.
---
"Oh? So I'm not enough?"
---
Before anyone could respond—
He grabbed two slices—
And shoved them into his own mouth.
---
Then—
---
Slammed the rest of the cake—
Right onto his face.
---
Silence.
---
Then—
---
Chaos.
---
Laughter shook the house.
---
Loud.
Unrestrained.
Endless.
---
Even the wind outside seemed to carry it.
---
Time blurred.
---
Minutes turned to hours.
---
The "competition" between my father and brother began.
---
Who could be more ridiculous.
More dramatic.
More absurd.
---
Faces covered in cake.
Voices exaggerated.
Movements wild.
---
My mother laughed until she couldn't anymore.
---
Literally.
---
Leaning back, exhausted.
Still smiling.
---
My brother wasn't far behind.
---
Even I—
Felt my stomach ache from laughing too much.
---
But it didn't matter.
---
Because the moment—
Was perfect.
---
The table was a mess.
The floor—
Even worse.
---
But two cakes remained untouched.
---
Like survivors of a battlefield.
---
More snacks came out.
Smaller cakes.
Sweet bites.
---
And the laughter—
Continued.
---
Until midnight.
---
Eventually—
It slowed.
---
Not because we wanted it to—
But because our bodies couldn't keep up anymore.
---
"…Alright," my father said, stretching.
"Enough for tonight."
---
Reluctantly—
We agreed.
---
My brother stood.
I followed.
---
We walked toward our rooms.
---
Behind us—
My father lifted my mother again.
---
She laughed weakly.
Too tired to resist.
---
He carried her upstairs.
Still talking.
Still smiling.
---
Still making her laugh.
---
I reached my room.
---
Quiet.
Still.
---
I removed my outer robe.
Left with the inner layer.
---
Walked to the window.
Opened it.
---
Cool night air flowed in.
Gentle.
Refreshing.
---
I lay on my bed.
---
Staring at the ceiling.
---
The echoes of laughter still lingering in my ears.
---
My chest felt… lighter.
---
But beneath it—
---
Something else remained.
---
Something deeper.
---
Tomorrow…
Or the next day…
---
Everything would change.
---
Neraphyx.
The unknown.
The truth.
---
I closed my eyes slowly.
---
"…Just one more night."
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Just one more moment like this.
---
Before everything begins.