Kai and Soren - Days - Chapter Eight: Iris

Hannah leads Soren by the hand, slowly, in a single direction.

The only one possible.

A long, cold corridor, lit only by the pale lights of the hopeless building.

Every now and then, as they pass, someone lifts their gaze.

They say nothing.

There is nothing to say.

Hannah stops.

Soren stumbles lightly over a shoelace tied too hastily.

An instant before crossing the threshold of the room, a quick, obvious thought passes through Soren:

there is only silence.

That says everything.

But it is not everything.

Nine chairs arranged in a circle, all the same, all plastic.

For a moment, Soren lets go of Hannah’s hand and gently grips the lower edge of her jacket.

His breath falters.

His eyes scan the room, but they are not looking for anything in particular.

Hannah looks at him, offers a small smile, and with a quick gesture rests her hand on Soren’s head.

It is only a touch, a small gesture, but in that moment Soren feels relief.

One by one, the people step forward, ordinary, composed, in silence.

Soren looks more closely now, and his gaze settles on a detail he hadn’t noticed before:

among all those chairs, only one is different.

The only one made of wood, adorned with a large white bow tied to the backrest.

And it is the only one without anyone sitting on it.

Soren follows the others’ movement.

Hannah guides him with a hand on his shoulder.

Then a gap opens.

The room seems to stretch.

The light that had been blocked by the tall black clothes in front of him forces him to squint.

Smooth.

White wood.

Golden threads.

This is the only thought that crosses Soren’s mind before he stumbles again against the edge of the bier.

Hannah encourages him to stand with a gesture.

She says nothing.

She brushes a bit of dust from his jacket with her hand.

Soren looks at her as if to ask her to stop.

He looks around, searching for eyes, but no one looks at him.

No one notices.

He hints at a half-smile.

With his hand, he pushes against the wooden edge and stands.

He sees.

A pale lower lip pulled downward.

Soft, black hair, neatly combed.

Wearing only a white scarf.

Once again the room stretches, but this time it is Soren who moves ahead, stretching farther and farther, even more distant.

Soren stands still, motionless, and for that reason he lets himself fall backward.

Hannah catches him just before he truly falls.

She lifts him into her arms.

Soren immediately turns, wrapping his whole body around Hannah.

“Stay calm—”

she stops.

Soren clings tighter, in that precise moment.

And he listens.

Whispers all around.

Muffled voices.

A dull thud.

Someone falls to the ground.

On the other side of the city, Kai stops.

It is a small gesture.

A step left unfinished.

Ruairidh’s hand is already on the car door handle.

The engine is running.

The radio speaks softly.

Kai no longer hears it.

He inhales, but the breath does not reach all the way in.

He brings a hand to his chest.

Not from pain.

From instinct.

“Kai?” Ruairidh says.

Kai does not answer.

He looks ahead, but he doesn’t see the road.

He doesn’t see the lights.

He doesn’t see anything that should be there.

He feels.

He swallows.

His gaze drops.

His fingers twist together.

He closes his eyes for just an instant.

It is not the first time this has happened.

But it is the first time he is afraid.

The noise collapses all at once.

Hannah holds Soren even tighter.

Somewhere, something moves.

A minimal gesture.

Almost a mistake.

Fingers.

First one.

Then another.

A light rustle against the white fabric.

“…”

No one speaks.

The pale lip trembles.

Not like a breath.

Like a return.

The eyelashes lower, then lift again.

The eyes open.

They do not search.

They do not recognize.

They are empty and present at the same time.

A scream breaks the air.

Someone truly collapses this time.

Hannah stiffens.

Soren feels the heartbeat beneath his cheek, too strong, too fast.

The child inhales.

It is a short, broken breath.

But it is a breath.

The eyes stare at the ceiling, then slowly drift to the side.

Soren knows.

Even without words.

That child did not return.

Someone else,

or perhaps something else,

did.

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