The day passed as usual, but something felt different. The daily activities that usually brought some life to the place had completely disappeared. The girls were no longer busy with knitting and making bracelets, and Mrs. Madga didn't take them to the market to sell them as we were used to. The atmosphere was filled with a heavy silence, as if everyone was waiting for something unpleasant.
But what caught my attention the most was Zuzanna's anxious expression as she kept watching Szymon. There was something she wasn't telling us—something we didn't know.
Curiosity gnawed at me, and no matter how much I tried to push the questions away, they kept crashing against my thoughts. I wandered around, searching for answers, until I couldn't hold back anymore. Even though I didn't particularly like talking to her, I found myself approaching Anita. She greeted me with a smug smile, like a duchess looking down on commoners, and said mockingly:
"And why does it matter to you, little stray?"
I steadied myself, forcing a calm smile.
"I'm just worried about him."
She scoffed, raising an eyebrow in amusement before bursting into laughter.
"You? Worried about Szymon?"
She turned away before I could say anything else, quickly joining a group of girls. The whispers started, spreading like wildfire, turning into excited murmurs.
"So, she likes Szymon? I never would've guessed!"
Suddenly, the boys' dormitory door swung open violently, and Lina stormed out, her face twisted in frustration. Her sharp voice cut through the buzzing gossip.
"Enough! Stop this nonsense!"
I watched as she made her way straight to the shelter's pharmacy, rummaging through the shelves in a hurry. She stopped in front of Madga's closed office door. Since Madga wasn't there, she hesitated for a moment, as if realizing she wouldn't find what she was looking for, then turned away with determination.
I took the chance to ask, "What are you looking for?"
Without hesitation, she replied, "The first aid kit. The nurse left some medicine in it—maybe something for the fever."
I quickly searched my memory, trying to recall its location. Then it hit me.
"It's in the storage room. Miss Mir put it there last time."
Her eyes lit up with relief, and she smiled.
"Yes! It must still be there! Thank you!"
I followed her to the storage room, where we finally found the kit. Gathering my courage, I asked her about Szymon. She sighed, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"He suddenly came down with a fever. I don't know why, but he's very sensitive to them—it happens a lot."
Then, without another word, she rushed off, leaving me standing there, frozen. Could it be because he got wet? But the rain only started at night… so how?
And then, the realization struck me like a cold slap—he had gone out without anyone noticing. But he told me to hide… so why did he follow that man?
As night fell, everything settled back into its usual rhythm. Yet, Zuzanna remained at Szymon's side the entire time, watching him in silence, as if waiting for something inevitable to happen.
That night, as always, I couldn't sleep. I lay staring into the darkness when I saw her return to the room, moving quietly, gathering a few things, then leaving again. Moments passed, and the silence broke—faint voices, tense at first, then rising… I didn't need to hear the words to know it was an argument.
A while later, Zuzanna returned, crying.
I wasn't the only one who noticed. Lina woke up and asked worriedly:
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Zuzanna quickly wiped her tears, but her voice betrayed deep frustration:
"Since this morning, I've been begging Mir to take Szymon to the doctor, but she refused! She promised to bring a nurse, but she didn't! And as if that wasn't enough, she took my money—all our savings! Can you believe it? What a miserable woman… Damn this situation!"
For the first time, I saw her this angry. Her face was tense, her eyes blazing with fury, and her hands clenched in trembling fists. Then suddenly, she turned to Lina and snapped:
"Go back to sleep."
And she left again, leaving behind a room thick with tension. I sat there, stunned. Curiosity burned inside me, refusing to be silenced. I leaned toward Lina and cautiously whispered:
"Why does she care about him so much?"
She turned to me sharply, startled by my sudden appearance, then sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes:
"You're really nosy. Can't you just rest and let us rest too?"
I laughed a little, apologizing, but I didn't back down. After a brief silence, I asked her again, this time more seriously:
"Why is he so important to her?"
Lina studied me for a long moment, then finally, in a strangely cold voice, she said:
"I think the girls were right… You're jealous of how close they are."
I blinked in confusion.
"Jealous? What do you mean?"
She smirked, tilting her head slightly, then said something that took me by surprise:
"Szymon isn't like us. He's her real brother—her actual family."
For the first time, everything began to make sense. The way she clung to him, her deep fear for his safety, the tears that flowed without resistance…
I was restless. Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, yet sleep refused to come. My thoughts swirled in an endless storm, replaying the events of last night in slow, exhausting loops. What had really happened?
In the morning, I woke up—late, as usual. Dragging myself out of bed, I headed straight to the children's room.
The silence that filled the space felt unsettling. Without stopping, I made my way to the dining hall, searching for Lina—I had to ask her about Szymon. But she was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to deal with the annoying girls, I continued my search until I spotted Mia.
— "Where's Zuzanna?" I asked, my voice carrying a hint of tension.
Mia gently took my hand and led me to the window. She lifted her finger, pointing outside, and I followed her gaze. And there… I saw them—Zuzanna and Lina, standing together, while Szymon sat between them. A sudden wave of relief washed over me.
— "Oh... he's okay."
I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath until I let out a long exhale. Mia nodded, saying:
— "When Madga arrived, she allowed them to go outside. She said fresh air would be good for the sick."
I nearly lost my mind.
— "What?! I want to go outside too!"
I pressed my face against the glass, hoping someone would notice me… or at least that my eyes would meet Szymon's. But then, something else crossed my mind—Madga.
I turned to Mia, searching her eyes for another answer.
— "And what about her? How was she today?"
Mia hesitated for a moment, not understanding the reason for my question.
— "She seemed… fine, I guess. But she didn't look at us the way she usually does. She didn't even meet our eyes."
Then I suddenly blurted out, "Is she hurt?"
Mia gave me a strange look. Realizing my slip, I quickly corrected myself:
— "I mean… she gets hurt a lot. That's why I'm asking."
Mia furrowed her brows, digging through her memory.
— "I don't know... but her face was paler than usual."
When everyone returned inside, escaping the cold for the warmth of hot soup, I carefully chose my seat. I sat directly in front of Szymon. I wanted him to see me. I wanted to read his eyes before he had a chance to mask them.
And finally, he lifted his head, our gazes meeting for a fleeting moment—a moment so brief, it barely formed a whisper in the noise of the world. Then, without any reaction, he went back to his soup as if nothing had happened. But I didn't look away. I kept staring, silently telling him that I would uncover whatever he was hiding.
As soon as everyone finished their meal, Szymon vanished into the crowd, like a ghost dissolving into the wind. I turned to search for him—but it was useless.
Then suddenly, I felt a hand grasp my wrist, pulling me outside.
I turned quickly—it was him.
His eyes were steady, unnervingly so. They weren't the same eyes I had grown used to. They were wide… like a deer sensing an unseen danger.
— "Are you still so determined to stir up trouble?"
I smiled faintly, ignoring the clear tension in his voice, and answered without hesitation:
— "I just want to know… What were they talking about? You know, don't you? And by the way, where were you that night?"
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, as if carrying a burden far heavier than himself. Then he spoke, his voice calm, yet loaded with something I couldn't quite place:
— "Enough… This isn't just a game. Please."
I saw the exhaustion in his face, and I didn't want to push him further. I stepped a little closer and lowered my voice to a whisper:
— "Fine, I won't insist… but I'll figure it out myself."
He froze. Something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, fleeting yet undeniable—before he muttered, almost to himself rather than to me:
— "You… really have no idea what you're trying to get involved in."
I let out a small laugh and turned away, my tone light as I said:
— "You know what? You're really boring."
I didn't need to look back to hear his frustrated sigh before he muttered in a sarcastic tone that didn't escape me:
— "Oh, and by the way… thanks for asking about my health."
I wasn't sure if his gratitude was meant to mock me or if he meant it, but for the first time, our conversation… felt almost pleasant.