Upon entering, Arika calmly surveyed the entire room, her gaze sweeping across it as if every corner held something she needed to understand. Her eyes lingered on the antique furniture, on the curtains that moved gently in the breeze filtering through the cracks, on the paintings hanging on the walls.
She walked slowly to a dark wooden dresser. On top of it rested a framed photograph.
Arika picked it up carefully.
The picture showed a young woman with a bright gaze and a serene smile. Her hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her eyes seemed filled with a quiet warmth.
Arika looked at the photograph for a few seconds, then looked up at Haru.
—Is this woman... the one you mentioned earlier?
Haru was silent for a moment. His eyes rested on the photograph, and something in his expression became distant.
— Yes — he finally replied.
He moved a little closer.
— Her name was Eleonora.
A faint, nostalgic smile touched his lips.
—Don't you think she's beautiful?
Arika looked at the picture again.
—She is.
She said it with her usual calm, without changing her expression.
Haru nodded gently and then pointed toward the living room a.
—Wait here a moment. I'll make dinner.
Arika placed the photo back on the dresser, exactly where it had been, and walked into the living room.
Haru prepared a simple dinner: hot soup, freshly toasted bread, and a mild herbal tea that filled the air with a delicate aroma.
They ate in front of the fireplace, where the fire crackled quietly. Although they hardly spoke, the silence was not uncomfortable; it was a warm, enveloping silence, as if the house, after a long period of dormancy, was slowly beginning to breathe again.
When they finished, Haru got up to feed her little friends and then led Arika to the second floor. The wood of the staircase creaked softly under her footsteps
—This will be your room.
She opened the door gently and turned on the light.
The room was simple but deeply welcoming. A small bed stood by the window, covered with a thick cream-colored comforter. There was a nightstand with an antique lamp, a hand-woven rug, and a low bookcase that was almost empty, waiting for stories, toys, life. Near the window, a white curtain moved slightly with the breath of the wind.
Snow fell outside, silently.
Haru took out some clean sheets and began to make the bed with careful, almost ceremonial movements. Arika watched in silence
—I don't have any suitable clothes for you right now —she said as she smoothed out the comforter—. But tomorrow I'll go to the market and get something.
Haru looked at her and called her softly.
—Come closer. It's time for you to rest.
He helped her lie down, tucking the blanket around her until she was completely covered.
—Rest, Arika."
The girl nodded slightly.
Haru turned off the light, leaving only the dim light coming in from the hallway, and closed the door behind her.
Arika lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The house creaked softly, as if whispering ancient secrets. Her eyes, still and deep, followed the shadows cast on the walls by the snowfall.
Sleep came slowly.
And overcame her.
At dawn, the world was covered in a white blanket. Haru got ready early. Before leaving, he leaned over Arika.
—I have to go to town. Don't go out, okay? The snow is heavy.
—Yes.
The answer was soft, almost absent.
Haru hesitated for a moment... then smiled.
—I'll be back soon."
The dogs watched him leave.
At the village market, Haru walked among stalls covered in frost. The cold air was filled with voices, footsteps, and the jingle of coins.
First, he bought winter clothes: a small wool coat, gloves, and a soft scarf. As they were being packed into a bag, Haru couldn't help but wonder if they would fit Arika.
Then he stopped in front of a children's clothing stall.
Several dresses hung neatly by color: reds, blues, pale greens, and a few softer shades. Haru looked at them for a long moment, his brow slightly furrowed.
He had never had to choose something like this before.
He carefully picked one up in his hands. It was a light lavender color, soft like the morning mist.
He held it up in front of him, trying to imagine how it would look on Arika... but he wasn't sure.
He looked at the saleswoman with some discomfort.
—Excuse me... —he said —. It's for a little girl.
The woman looked up with a friendly smile.
—How old is she?
Haru hesitated for a second.
—About... this tall —he replied, raising his hand to show Arika's approximate height —. I'm not quite sure which color to choose.
The woman looked at the dress in her hands.
—That one is pretty. It's warm and the color is soft.
As they talked, another saleswoman from a nearby stall looked on curiously. In a small town, almost everything was known.
The first woman folded the dress carefully and looked at it with a slight smile.
—They say a little girl without a family is staying with you, Haru —she said kindly—. ou're putting a lot of effort into choosing... it almost seems like it's for your daughter."
The words made Haru freeze for a moment.
He looked down at the dress.
For years he had imagined something like this: a house full of little laughter, footsteps running down the hall, someone to teach the simple things of the world.
But that future never came.
Eleonora and he had wanted it.
However, life had taken another path.
He was silent for a few seconds, as if ordering his own thoughts.
—Even though she's not my daughter... I want to take care of her as if she were.
She held the dress in her hands for a moment longer before adding:
—At least while she's with me.
The saleswoman smiled with quiet warmth.
—Then I'm sure you'll choose well.
Haru nodded slightly.
—I'll take this one.
As the woman folded it and put it away, Haru continued to look around the small stall.
He also picked up some thick socks, some hair ribbons, and, after hesitating for a moment, a couple of candies wrapped in shiny paper.
Each item aroused in him a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness.
He had never bought things like this for anyone before.
And yet, each decision seemed strangely important to him.
As if, somehow, he wanted to do it right.
Haru paid, thanked her with a slight nod, and walked away among the market stalls, carrying the bags.
The two saleswomen followed him with their eyes as he left.
The younger one was the first to speak, lowering her voice.
—It's been a long time since I've seen him look at something with such excitement.
The other woman nodded slowly.
—Since Eleonora... he's become a very quiet man.
The wind stirred the fabrics of the stall and lifted some frost from the ground.
They remained silent for a few seconds.
Then the older woman sighed softly.
—Perhaps that girl came into her life when she needed her most.
Meanwhile, Arika remained by the window. She watched the snowfall, motionless. Her eyes slowly descended toward the garden.
The dogs.
Kwan raised his head first.
Arika moved away from the glass, walked toward the door... and opened it.
The icy air enveloped her immediately. The dogs ran toward her, wagging their tails. Arika crouched down and petted them one by one.
Then she looked up. In the distance, the forest stretched out like a white, silent border.
Something in her gaze changed. She stood up, closed the door, and began to walk.
The dogs followed her without hesitation.
The snow crunched under their feet as they made their way into the trees.
When Haru returned, laden with bags, the stillness hit him like a cold blow.
—Guys?
Nothing.
He hurried inside. He put down the bags and went upstairs.
—Arika?
Silence.
His breathing began to quicken. He searched every room, every corner. It was empty.
Then he looked toward the window overlooking the forest. His heart fell into an abyss.
—No…
Fear pierced her chest like an old wound that never healed. Images burst in without permission: snow, blood, Eleonora motionless, her own scream breaking in the night. Her mind was filled with questions that pounded violently.
What if she got lost?
What if she fell?
What if...?
He couldn't finish the thought and ran out.
Every step toward the forest was a struggle against panic. His hands trembled, his vision blurred, the air seemed insufficient.
—Not again... please... not again...
Just as he was about to cross the line of trees, Haru stopped dead in his tracks.
Arika emerged from the snow, the dogs beside her.
The relief was so overwhelming that it almost knocked the strength from his legs. He ran to the girl and hugged her with restrained desperation.
—Arika...
She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away either.
For a few seconds, the whole world was reduced to that hug.
Finally, Haru pulled away, still breathing heavily.
—You scared me... I told you not to go out.
—I'm sorry...
Arika's voice was barely a whisper.
Haru looked at her for a few seconds before speaking again, trying to stay calm.
—Don't ever do that again... and definitely don't go into the woods alone —he said gently, though his concern was still evident was really worried.
Then Haru noticed something in her hands.
Flowers.
But they weren't ordinary flowers.
They were small and delicate, with deep purple petals that faded gently to a lighter shade at the edges. In the center was a pure white, almost luminous, as if snow had been trapped inside each petal.
The stems were thin and flexible, and some still had small drops of melted ice on them.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
—Where did you find these?
She held up the flowers and looked at them.
—These? ... Near here ... They were hidden among the bushes.
Arika noticed how Haru's expression changed.
His eyes had become distant, as if he were looking at something that wasn't there, lost in a memory that only he could reach.
She didn't understand why those flowers seemed to mean so much to him, or why his gaze had suddenly become so fragile. But she didn't think too much about it; after all, she wasn't capable of feeling those things.
Still, he had helped her a lot.
So she held out her hands and offered him the flowers.
—For me?
She nodded.
Haru took the flowers as if holding something sacred. His fingers trembled slightly as he looked at them, and his eyes began to fill with tears.
They were the favorite flowers of her mistress, Eleonora.
She hadn't seen them in years.
That simple bouquet awakened a flood of memories in her chest that she thought were dormant.
A deep and unexpected emotion broke her voice.
—Thank you... Arika...
A tear fell on the petals. And in that instant, Arika felt something.
An unfamiliar, warm, and sharp sensation slowly rising in her chest. She couldn't name it. She just felt it.
Haru stood up, still moved, and took her hand.
—Let's go home... I bought a lot of things for you.
Arika looked at him.
And for a fraction of a second, something almost imperceptible sparkled in her eyes.