The bus is packed to the brim. Haintso, hanging onto the metal bar, half his body outside, struggles to keep his balance. The wind slaps his face, but he feels nothing. Not the cold, not the damp, not the tension in his arms. He smiles. His mind is floating—far, far away. Still in the warmth of Miaro's living room, still on the velvet of her lips, still in the soft glow of her gaze. It's unreal, almost too beautiful. As if this day had been stolen from a dream. A sweet illusion dropped between two miseries.
The city passes by colorless, blurry, distant. Haintso sees nothing under the still ongoing rain. He is flying. He doesn't feel the cold catching him. He doesn't feel tired either, not sitting since the morning. Only one thought keeps echoing in his mind:
I love her.
And I think she loves me too.
He steps off at Befetsika, still wrapped in that inner warmth. But the moment he pushes the door to his house, the dream shatters instantly.
It's dark. Cold. His little sisters rush toward him. Harena, the older one, has red, swollen eyes. Narovana, the youngest, says nothing, clinging to her skirt like a frightened kitten.
— "Where were you? asks Harena, panicked."
— "What's going on? Where are Mom and Dad?"
— "Mom's at the hospital. They shot Setra. The police found him. She went to see him. And Dad still hasn't come home…"
— "He probably went to join her, Haintso replies, his tone hard. That's not our business. Come on, we need to eat."
— "We haven't eaten since midday…"
Haintso freezes for a moment. Guilt hits him like a blast of cold air. He lowers his eyes. His gaze meets Narovana's—hungry and silent. He says nothing more. He takes a few bills, grabs a sweater, then leads them outside, lifting little Narovana into his arms and holding her tightly, as if saying sorry.
They eat at a small food stall under a tired-looking streetlamp.
Harena watched her brother pacing back and forth, bargaining for rice here, vegetables there. He never stopped. As soon as he sat down, he got up again. She saw him giving instructions to the woman at the table, making sure Narovana was eating properly. He smiled, he joked. But in his eyes, Harena could sense the exhaustion. They returned home with a few groceries—some rice and a small packet.
At home, the flame of a candle cast a gentle shadow on the walls. Haintso lit the charcoal fire and prepared the vegetables.
Once he finished, he served the meal without a word. The girls ate in silence, their eyes downcast, as if their joy might offend the stillness of the empty house. Once the plates were put away, he tucked them in gently. Harena, already in bed, called out to him:
— "Are you going to yell at Mom and Dad again?"
— "Come on, Harena… Those aren't thoughts you or I should have. You're going to school tomorrow. That's all that matters."
— "But big brother… at school, I feel like I'm the poorest one in the class. No one talks to me. They look at me like I'm dirty. And when I think about everything we go through here… I just can't focus anymore."
A long silence settled in. Haintso sighed and sat down beside her.
— "You're smart enough to see all of this. So why not use that intelligence to get out? Get your diplomas, find a good job. School isn't a perfect solution, but it's a tool. That's why I keep going… despite everything. Now sleep, Harena."
She closed her eyes obediently, though sleep didn't come.
Haintso stepped out onto the veranda. He carried an old chair, sat down, and stared into the night. The stars weren't shining. Neither was the moon. The silence was heavy, humid.
He thought of Miaro.
Of her hands.
Of her scent.
Of that moment he wished could have lasted forever.
A soft laugh escaped him—unintentional. Slowly, he began to chuckle. Then his back bent forward, his hands covered his face, and the tears began to fall. Not because of her. Not because of them.
Because of everything.
The clock had passed ten o'clock when the door finally groaned open in the night. Haintso, still sitting on the veranda, saw them approaching in the darkness. He stood up without a word. His mother looked exhausted, his father shuffled his feet. Haintso opened the door slowly, without greeting them, without even looking them in the eyes. They entered in silence. The dull thud of the closing door echoed like a guillotine.
His father dropped into a chair, placed his old hat on the table, and said sharply:
— "Where's our rice?"
It was like a switch flipping. A spark. A fire deep in his gut.
Haintso slowly turned his head. His voice was low, calm, but each word cracked like a whip.
— "Are you kidding me?"
His father raised his eyebrows, surprised.
— "You left without a single thing for us, and now, tired from your errands, you think you'll come home to something to eat?"
— "How dare you talk to me like that? I'm your father."
— "How could I not?! You left the girls alone at home with NOTHING—NOTHING—to eat!"
His father stood up violently.
— "But your brother… he was shot. He was hanging between life and death when we got there. Do you hate him that much? No matter what you say or do, you're bound by blood. He's still your—"
— "Aaargh! Leave me alone with that blood nonsense!"
His voice rises, choked, heavy with anger and unshed tears.
— "What do you want me to say? I almost took him out myself not long ago… What more do you need to open your eyes?! Your son is a criminal. And everyone knows it—everyone's after him. But you? You still cling to him like he's ten years old!"
— "He made mistakes, but—"
— "They're not mistakes, they're crimes! And he's twenty-four! Twenty-four, Dad! And you keep spoiling him like a baby while he drags all of us down with him!"
His father stays silent, features tight. His mother tries to step in.
— "It's not that simple, Haintso. You're still a child. You can't understand…"
— "Oh yeah? What about us, the "others"? The ones left here while you chase after him? These kids—your kids—are hungry! They have nothing to eat, no one to protect them, and you wonder why I'm angry?!"
His mother tries to explain, awkwardly.
— "But I thought you'd be back by noon…
— For what?! And what if I didn't have a single coin on me? You left two little girls in my care, expecting me to feed them with air?! "
He freezes. His voice trembles. His breath quickens. And finally, the tears fall.
— "In any case… you can't… lay this kind of responsibility on me. I'm fifteen, Mom. Fifteen. "
He gasps, as if suffocating under the weight of his own childhood.
— "If I've made some money, it's not to save this family. It's because I realized—through surviving—that I could never count on you. Never…"
His throat tightens, his hands shake.
— "But do you know what you managed to do? You ruined my talents. My potential. My childhood. And tonight, for the first time in my life… He lowers his eyes. "
— I'm ashamed of you. "
Then he turns on his heel. He walks out.
— "Haintso! My child, where are you going? It's nighttime! "
— Leave me alone. "
The door slams shut.
A heavy silence weighs down the empty room. The father, Rakoto, stands motionless before dropping into his chair, crushed.
— "Let him go… he murmurs. He needs to think. And I think we do too. He's a strong boy. But I think we've leaned a little too hard on that strength. "
— "What have we done, Rakoto? the mother whispers. I think we've broken him for good. He's just a child…"
— "I don't know. We need to pray. And place all of this in God's hands. "
Outside, Haintso walks. Slowly. Aimlessly. His feet drag on the asphalt like a sorrowful dance. Every step matters. Like a silent ticking clock. He thinks. Or rather, he tries. Because his head is empty. His heart too full. His eyes still wet. He walks, lost in the dark.