The sky was still dim, painted in strokes of orange and violet, when Vicky turned onto their street. The early morning wind cut through her sweater, sharp as the memories clawing at her. With every step she took, the sting of rejection echoed louder in her ears. Her hands trembled slightly. Her pride? Crushed. Her hope? Flickering. But her siblings—they couldn't see this part of her.
She reached the gate, pausing for a breath. She blinked hard, wiped her face dry with the sleeve of her cardigan, and stepped inside like she hadn't just been gutted by the world outside.
Inside, the smell of warm porridge mingled with laundry soap. Evan was packing his notebooks into his backpack, earbuds hanging from his collar. Emily sat on the edge of the couch, swinging her tiny legs in her school shoes, humming a made-up song.
Evan was the first to notice her.
"You forgot something?" he asked, brows raised.
"No, no…" Vicky said quickly, setting her bag down. "Did you pack everything?"
She moved towards the counter and poured herself a glass of water, popping two small white pills into her mouth without explanation.
Emily stood up and ran over with her schoolbag dangling in one hand.
"Sister, my bag's string is torn," she said, pouting.
Vicky crouched beside her and took the bag, examining the frayed strap with trained fingers.
"Don't worry," she smiled. "Sister's here. We've still got time—I'll fix it in a snap."
She pulled out the old sewing kit tucked behind the flour tin and sat at the table. Her fingers moved swiftly, as though stitching away her own unraveling spirit.
Evan stepped closer, watching her carefully.
"Vicky… why did you come back?" he asked, his voice lower this time. "Did something happen?"
She didn't look up.
"No. Nothing happened. I just… wanted to see you both off. That's all."
He didn't look convinced. He took a seat beside her, elbows on the table.
"You had that dream again, didn't you?" he asked. "The one that wakes you up crying."
Vicky's hands faltered. She tied the thread tight and cut it off with her teeth.
"Don't worry about me," she said, too quickly. "Come on, eat your food before it gets cold."
She turned to Emily, who was already spooning porridge into her mouth.
"Emily, hold still," Vicky said gently. "I don't want you messing up your uniform."
She draped a dishcloth over Emily's lap like she was wrapping something sacred, then gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.
"I miss Mommy," Emily said out of nowhere, her voice small.
Vicky paused.
"Aww, baby…" she whispered, kneeling beside her. "Mom will be with us soon, okay? She just needs more rest."
Emily nodded, blinking hard.
"I just hope she gets better," Evan muttered.
Vicky looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"She will," she said firmly. "She will. We just have to stay strong. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to her."
Her throat tightened as the lie clung to her tongue. She stood up quickly and escaped to the bedroom with the fixed bag, pretending to search for something—anything—to hide the tears pricking her eyes.
She didn't hear them enter. She only felt the warmth when Evan wrapped his arms around her from behind. Emily joined without a word, wrapping herself around Vicky's legs.
For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into them. To breathe them in.
"We don't need to be weak," Vicky whispered, clutching them. "If we become weak… Mom won't recover."
There was a heartbeat of silence.
Then, in perfect chorus, the three of them said it:
"We're victorious. We're brave."
Vicky walked them to school, her hands in theirs, her smile as bright as the sun rising behind them. But behind that smile lived a storm. Not of tears this time.