The eggs were a little burnt. The bread, too — edges singed just enough to curl. But Maya ate anyway, her legs swinging above the floor as she perched on the wobbly stool by the counter.
Isaac watched her from across the tiny table, tearing his bread into pieces but not eating much of it. The smell of overcooked yolk clung to the air, and the kettle hissed faintly from the heat he'd forgotten to turn off.
She noticed — she always did — and reached over to switch it off without saying a word.
A quiet kindness.
He used to be the one looking out for her.
Now she was learning to do it back.
"Next time," she said through a mouthful of toast, "I'm cooking."
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "You said that last time."
"And I meant it last time, too."
He smiled — soft and brief — and pushed his plate toward her. "Here. I'm not that hungry."
Maya gave him a suspicious look. "You never finish your food anymore."
She said it like a joke.
But the way her eyes lingered told him it wasn't one.
Later, Isaac gently ran his hand through his little sister's hair, tousling it just enough to earn the usual flurry of complaints. Her grumbling made him smile — soft, fleeting — and he moved quickly to fix it, fingers smoothing each strand like a silent apology.
But when she looked up at him…
Something in her gaze lingered.
Not anger. Not annoyance.
Something quieter. Something uncertain.
There was a hesitation in her eyes — like she was seeing someone she almost remembered. A reflection of her brother… not the whole.
She didn't say anything. Maya never did, not when something sat heavy in her chest. She just smiled, small and brave, like always.
But this time… it wavered.
And Isaac noticed.
She feels it.
There's something in her eyes — like she's searching for the version of me she remembers.
And maybe… she's starting to see that he's gone.
He turned away before she could speak. Words wouldn't fix this. They never could.
Even if I told her… she wouldn't believe me.
Because Isaac remembered.
Not just what had happened.
But what was going to.
I remember her sickness. The coughing fits. The way her hands shook when the fever took hold. The way she clung to me like I was the only thread keeping her tethered to this world.
I tried everything. Stole. Lied. Took jobs no one else would — a carrier for hunters, dragging bloodied packs through monster-infested zones — all for a single vial of elixir.
And it still hadn't been enough.
Then he awakened.
F-Rank.
The bottom of the chain. The kind guilds snickered at behind closed doors. But to him… it felt like hope. A flicker of flame in a room filled with shadows.
Maybe… maybe I could claw my way up. Maybe I could change her fate.
But even now…
Even now it feels like I'm remembering a future that was never mine to hold.
Like a dream someone else keeps waking me from.