15. A dream

There were no peaceful nights. Nights were the only time when past and present could overlap freely.

It was a dim afternoon. Tristan came to visit them unannounced. Maybe he should've called before coming into that house, now full of hatred. Perhaps Tristan should've stopped coming entirely after Millen's death. That's right, he should've but didn't. 

The door is unlocked, so he invites himself in. 

However, he cannot expect to see the gentleness, the loving home he used as a substitute to forget his own. 

Tristan didn't know why he came here, precisely on Kristina's birthday. Perhaps the guilt finally caught up to him. Maybe he felt responsible for what is now happening to Kristina. No, there's no maybe - he is liable to his cowardness, his fear of speaking the truth.

The TV was on with the volume turned up so high that one could miss a robbery. On a couch sat Henry and Alec side by side. That's right, after Millen's death, there was no need to visit the grave of Kristina's father anymore. There was no need to celebrate Kristina's birthday - to play pretend. 

Tristan looked at the big screen, remaining unnoticed by the two. He wondered how Henry must've felt. 

He wondered how Millen must've felt celebrating her husband's passing and daughter's birthday on the same day. However, thinking about Millen now lacks reason - after all, she's already in the land of death. She is forever gone, leaving everything to crumble like a dried leaf in autumn.

Tristan sat on the couch. Alec jumped up in surprise.

"Tristan, how did you-" 

"The door was open," Tristan sighed as he glanced at Henry.

Henry sat there, not surprised by his sudden visit or perhaps too tired to be surprised anymore. Alec reached for a remote and turned off the TV.

Tristan and Alec sat in the dining room like they always had. Alec looked at Tristan with tenderness. He looked at him with his most genuine eyes, which held something unsaid, something he may never have the courage to say aloud.

"You have to lock your door. What if I was a robber?" Tristan said lightheartedly.

"You're the only robber I'd let in willingly," Alec smiled.

"Oh, shut it," Tristan hit Alec lightly.

There was no denying it - Tristan was indeed a filthy thief. He knew the truth but kept it selfishly - he could've said what he knew - he could've been the one receiving the hatred. One confession could save Kristina from the bitterness her life held. He was a thief of happiness they welcomed with open arms.

Kristina entered the house. She passed by the dining room, her eyes red.

Alec stopped smiling as his gaze followed her until she disappeared. He frowned.

"Don't mind her, Tristan. She's as good as death," Alec hissed coldly.

When Tristan left the house, it was already pitch black outside. On his way out, he bumped into Kristina. They exchanged a look - neither of them knew what the other thought. 

"I know. You're not alone," Tristan whispered, leaving Kristina in tears, crumbling on the muddy ground.

Tristan woke up with teary eyes. He felt a weird ache as if an arrow pierced his heart. No, the one who woke up was Kristina, wearing his skin - still stuck in Tristan's body.

It was only a dream, patched-up memories tainted by the flow of time. However, these memories weren't hers - they were Tristan's. She never imagined she could peer into Tristan's memories, experiencing events as he did - feeling the emotions they carried firsthand. 

'I know. You're not alone.' - Kristina forgot these words long ago. She forgot the kind words Tristan spared her. However, remembering them felt like tearing open a scar. 

As Tristan descended the stairs, the smell of freshly made breakfast hit his nostrils. However, instead of sitting down and enjoying the freshly made breakfast by his mother, he passed by silently.

This feeling! When Tristan said these words, he felt- How to describe it? Ah, it was almost like he felt guilty.

"Tristan, won't you have breakfast with us?" his mother called after him.

Tristan didn't bother to respond and left the house, slamming the door.

Kristina doesn't have the time and nerve to play house today.

"Why did he-" his mother whispered weakly. However, Tristan was long gone. 

He stopped on the driveway for a moment. Something didn't add up. These memories were from the past. A past that didn't have the chance to play out yet. Tristan shook his head and resumed walking.