The day was over.
It was time for everyone to go home.
Neïle kept drawing while waiting for his mum.
He was getting impatient.
He couldn't wait to tell her about meeting his new friend, Nicolas.
"Neïle! Your mum is here to pick you up." The teacher called from the doorway.
"Mum!"
He hurried to pack his things, nearly dropping his pencils, then ran to the entrance.
"Mum!"
"Yes, sweetheart." She bent down and hugged him tightly.
She held him close as if they hadn't seen each other in a long time.
"I have to tell you something incredible!"
She laughed softly at his excitement. "Okay. But first, put your shoes on. You can tell me everything on the way home."
"Yes!"
He quickly sat down on the little bench and pulled on his shoes.
"All done!"
He grabbed his mother's hand and pulled her toward the door.
"Come on, Mum, let's hurry. I really need to tell you. And I'm hungry too."
"Neïle, wait." She smiled. "Don't you think you should say something to your teacher before leaving?"
"That's right. What do we say when we leave?"
He hesitated. "Goodbye?"
Say goodbye to her?
Why would I do that?
Be nice to someone who never helped me?
Yeah, right.
"Well done!" the teacher said with satisfaction. "You were very good today."
Hypocrite.
"Thanks." His answer came out a little stiff.
"Mum is proud of you, my boy."
Neïle shrugged as if it didn't matter, but he squeezed her hand a little tighter.
Behind them, the classroom was already returning to its usual noise. Chairs scraped. Pencil cases snapped shut. A few children whispered as they watched them leave.
"Have a nice evening, Neïle."
"Yes… you too." He didn't turn around.
His mother opened the door. A cool breeze rushed into the hallway, so different from the heavy warmth of the classroom.
As soon as he stepped outside, Neïle felt the tension leave his shoulders. He took a deep breath.
"Well?" His mother glanced at him as they walked.
A smile slowly appeared on his face.
"You'll never guess."
They walked down the corridor together, their footsteps echoing while the classroom noise faded behind them.
Outside, the air was cooler. The playground was quiet now, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city.
Neïle swung their joined hands slightly, just to make sure she was still there.
"He arrived this morning," he finally said. "Nicolas."
"Oh really? What's he like?"
Neïle frowned in concentration, thinking very hard.
"He doesn't talk much. But it's not a weird silence. It's just… normal."
He searched for the right words.
"It's like when you're just looking at something together."
His mother gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I see."
They kept walking. Their footsteps crunched softly on the gravel.
A dog barked behind a gate. Neïle stopped to look, curious, then continued on.
"And he sat next to me. Even though nobody told him to."
He looked up at her, suddenly serious.
"Do you think that means we're really friends?"
She bent slightly to meet his eyes.
"Yes. Real friendships sometimes start like that. Quietly."
Neïle thought about this for several steps.
Then a small smile returned.
"Tomorrow I'll show him my markers. I have shiny colours."
"I'm sure he'll love them."
The silence that followed wasn't sad.
It was peaceful. Full of late afternoon light and the simple comfort of being together.
At the end of the street, their house came into view.
Neïle let go of her hand and ran to the gate.
"We're home!"
His mother watched him, feeling a weight lift from her chest.
Today, for the first time in a long while, she wasn't afraid of the question parents always ask:
Did you have a good day?
Because this time, she already knew the answer.
She opened the front door. Neïle slipped inside and ran straight to the living room.
A man was lying on the sofa, resting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Dad!"
Surprised, his father sat up. Then his face broke into a wide smile.
"Hey there, champ."
Neïle bounced in place like a little spring.
"Dad, Dad! I have to tell you something!"
"What's making you so happy today?"
Neïle launched into the story, waving his hands because words didn't feel like enough.
Meanwhile, his mother walked into the kitchen… and suddenly stopped.
"Darling! We forgot to do the shopping!"
His father winced. "Ah, shit."
Neïle frowned.
What does that word mean?
Is it something you eat?
"Shit?"
His father leaned closer, looking alarmed.
"Shh. Don't say that in front of Mum. And don't repeat it. Deal?"
"Deal."
His mother returned with a bright smile.
"Since there's nothing to cook… I ordered something."
His father began drumming rapidly on his knees.
Neïle leaned forward, eyes wide.
"Pizza!"
The doorbell rang.
"That must be it!" she said as she went to open the door.
A delicious smell quickly filled the house. The warm box was set on the table, and his father opened it with exaggerated ceremony.
"Careful. This is the most important moment of the evening."
The lid lifted.
"Ooooh!"
They sat down together. Glasses slid across the table. Plates landed a little crooked. Soon the room filled with simple sounds — cardboard rustling, cutlery clinking, the soft murmur of conversation.
A normal moment.
A gentle moment.
Neïle kept talking between bites, still describing how Nicolas had come to see him.
But his voice slowed.
His words began to blur.
Sleep was catching up with him.
His eyelids drooped despite his efforts to keep them open. His head tilted… jerked back up… then tilted again.
His parents exchanged a tender glance.
"I think someone reached the end of his day."
His father carefully lifted him into his arms. Neïle didn't protest. He was already half asleep, cheek resting against his father's shoulder.
"You did great today, champ. But now it's time to rest."
"Hmmm…"
That was all he managed to say.
They laid him in bed without turning on the main light. The room stayed wrapped in soft darkness, the kind that quietly welcomes the night.
His mother pulled the blanket up to his chin.
His father gently ruffled his hair.
One last look.
A shared smile.
They left on tiptoe.
In the silence, Neïle stirred slightly.
His lips moved, caught in the edge of a dream.
"…Nicolas…"
That night, Neïle fell asleep more peacefully than usual.
In the quiet darkness of his room, a small light had begun to glow.