The rain had slowed to a whisper. Scilla sat curled in her window nook, the book in her lap long forgotten. Her eyes were fixed on the drops trailing down the stained glass, but she wasn't really watching them. Not fully. The house was too quiet. Not the comforting kind of quiet they'd wrapped themselves in that morning, with lo-fi beats and firelight and books as distractions. This quiet was sharper like a breath held too long, or a note left ringing in the air after the music stops. The quiet was beginning to stab her throughout her body, she looked over at Aurelia, who had fallen asleep on the couch, the book resting on her stomach, her necklace peeking out from her shirt. This kind of silence reminded her of everything that was missing. Scilla could almost hear their mom's laughter echoing in the room. The sound of her humming in the kitchen. The way she used to tap her nails on the emerald green countertops as she waited for the kettle to boil. All of it was gone. The house had become a museum of echoes. Familiar, yes, but hollow in the ways that mattered most. Every room held memories. Every quiet corner buzzed with the absence of what used to fill it. Scilla hugged the book to her chest. It didn't help. The pain in her chest was growing stronger. "What are you thinking about?" Aurelia's voice came softly, like she was afraid to break the stillness. Scilla looked over at her, surprised at her sister, and hesitated. Then she said., "Mom." Scilla's voice cracked, and tears fell down her cheeks. Aurelia nodded. "Yeah. Me too." Tears fell down Aurelia's face as she felt her chest caving in.
Scilla let her eyes wander back to the rain. "It's like… she's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I walked into a room and I expect to hear her. Smell her perfume. Hear her say my name like she always did when she wanted something, but in that soft way that made it feel like you were special just because she asked." Aurelia's eyes glistened in the firelight. "I know." She swallowed. "It's the silence that gets me. Not just the kind you can hear, but the kind you feel." Scilla's voice cracked. "The stinging kind." The girls just sat in the living room for the next couple of hours. No talking, no reading, just the fire, the rain, and the silence that held the weight of the room. In that silence, that hurt was the loudest thing in the room. The house filled with ghosts of warmth and the ache of what used to be. Aurelia and Scilla were beginning to wonder if they were ever going to be close again. Grief had made strangers out of them. Not in the loud, fighting kind of way. Not with slammed doors or angry words. It was quieter than that, like a slow drift, the kind you don't notice until the space between you feels unfamiliar.
They still shared coffee. Still passed each other the cream. Still folded laundry and reminded one another to eat. But it was all surface. Habit. Memory wrapped in muscle memory. The kind of closeness they once had, sleepovers in each other's rooms, whispered secrets under shared blankets, unspoken understanding in a glance that had gone somewhere they couldn't seem to reach anymore. And neither of them knew how to ask for it back. It all slowly disappeared the day their mom died from cancer. Scilla stared down at her hands. "Do you think we're ever going to feel normal again?" Aurelia didn't answer right away. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, voice low. "I don't even know what normal is anymore." "Me neither," Scilla replied, completely broken. The fire popped softly, as if to remind them it was still there. So were they. Still breathing. Still trying. Scilla finally looked at her sister not through her, not around her, but at her. Really looked. "You think Mom would be okay with how we've been?"
Aurelia's jaw tensed. "No. I think she'd sit us down and make us talk it out. Probably with hot chocolate and that serious look she'd give when she meant business." The girls said nothing after that. There was no point in pushing further, no perfect words waiting to be found. Just the tired kind of ache that settled in your bones after a day heavy with memory. Without speaking, they each stood and stretched. The fire crackled softly behind them, the lo-fi hum still playing like a heartbeat in the background. They turned and walked up the stairs in silence, the soft creak of the steps underfoot the only sound between them. At the landing, they paused for just a second, neither reaching for the other, but neither turning away too quickly, either. The dark wooden floors in the hallway on the top floor played memories back when they were kids, running through the halls, chasing each other with different toys, and playing dress-up. There was a dark green carpet that had been woven, stretching the length of the hallway. The walls a light peach color with family photos hung up everywhere. Then they each disappeared into their rooms, the doors clicking softly behind them. The rooms were cool and dim, the storm outside still painting the windows in watery streaks of gray. The kind of weather that invited you to curl beneath blankets and let the world wait.
Scilla opened the door to her room, she had a bluish-grey carpet on her floor, her walls were a medium blue wallpaper that had silver lotuses all over. Her curtains were a dark grey. Scilla walked towards her queen-size bed, and she moved her black blankets and hand-knit dark purple blanket to scotch underneath and she laid down. Scilla pulled her blankets up to her chin, sinking into the comfort of her pillows. She could still feel the letter in her mind, hear her mother's voice in those words, lingering like a whisper she might dream about. Aurelia walked into her bedroom, where she had light green wallpaper all over her walls that had white roses all over. She had a blue-ish grey carpet on her floor. She walked up to her Queen bed, passed her dresser and hutch, moved her light yellow blankets and hand-knit black blanket, snuggled into her bed enjoying her pillows softness she laid on her side, her face toward the window. Through her cream and grey curtains she watched a single raindrop trace a slow path down the glass, it was like it had nowhere else to be. Her chest felt heavy, but not unbearable. They both drifted off with the rain still falling, the house holding them gently in its quiet hush.
That afternoon, as the rain tapped softly against their windows and the house settled into a rare stillness, both sisters fell to sleep. And both began to dream. Scilla stood barefoot in a field of tall golden grass, warm sunlight spilling across her shoulders. The sky above was a perfect, endless blue no clouds, no storms. Just light. The air smelled like lavender and rain, soft and clean, like the air after a summer storm. She turned slowly, and there just ahead was Aurelia, standing beside her. Neither of them looked surprised. A few feet away, a picnic blanket lay spread across the grass, its edges held down by smooth stones. On it sat a woven basket, two mugs of hot chocolate steaming gently, and a photo album open to that picture from the zoo. The scene was set perfectly under a weeping willow, blowing in the breeze. Standing just behind it all… was their mother.
She looked just as she had in the photo: bright pink lace dress, pearl shoes, her hair in that soft, familiar bun, loose strands dancing in the breeze. Her smile was warm and knowing, eyes shining like she'd been waiting for them. She opened her arms. They didn't run to her, but they walked. Slowly. Together. And when she wrapped her arms around them, it felt like the safest place in the world. Scilla buried her face in the soft fabric of her mother's dress. Aurelia closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of her, the one no perfume had ever quite captured. Lavender, honey, vanilla, something warm and purely her. "I've missed you so much," Aurelia whispered, voice cracking. "I know," their mother said, her voice like a melody they hadn't heard in years but still remembered every note of. "I've missed you, too." They sat on the blanket, the three of them. sunlight, and laughter, and quiet. Their mother reached for the photo album, gently turning a page. More memories appeared ones they hadn't seen in years. Birthday cakes. Snow days. Pillow forts. Days where love lived loud and simple. Scilla looked at her mother. "Is this real?"
"It's true," she answered, "and that's even better. You carry me with you, always. You just have to remember to look." She touched each of their foreheads with her fingertips so light, so loving. And then, like the slow dissolve of a film reel, the field began to fade. They woke at almost the same time. The rain had stopped. The light outside was golden, now soft evening sun cutting through the stained glass windows and a dusting of light fog that still remained, casting gentle color onto the walls. Both girls opened their doors at the same time, staring at each other across the hall, eyes wide and mouths opened in shock. Neither spoke. But both stood. "You saw her too" Aurelia and Scilla both said at the same time.
Aurelia blinked slowly, like she was trying to hold onto something just out of reach. Scilla shifted slightly, eyes fixed on her sister's face. There was a brief pause, weightless. And then Aurelia offered the smallest of smiles. Scilla returned it. They walked down the stairs together, steps in sync, shoulders brushing only slightly as they reached the bottom. The living room hadn't changed. The fireplace still glowed with soft embers. The lo-fi music still played, a few quiet chords looping gently in the background. But something had changed. The silence wasn't stinging now.
It felt warm. Full. Like it had been transformed, like something sacred had passed through the house, leaving the air gentler, kinder. Scilla moved to the kitchen and began to make tea, pulling out the honey their mom used to love. Aurelia grabbed a blanket from the couch and draped it across both of their laps once they sat again, side by side on the floor in front of the fire. A book lay open between them, though neither of them read it. Their legs were tucked beneath them, mugs cradled in their hands. Aurelia leaned her head lightly against Scilla's shoulder. Scilla didn't pull away, the clock down the hall ticked softly, keeping tune with the relaxing music. . The girls glanced outside, the last of the day's rain caught the light as it fell from the leaves, glowing like drops of gold. They didn't talk about the dream. But they both knew something had come back to them. Something they hadn't even realized they'd lost. Some things didn't need to be said to be understood. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence wasn't a wound. It was a balm.