“Poire? Were you able to find your forgotten homework?”

Poire hid the bag filled with water and life behind her back as she walked up the stairs. “Yes,” she quickly said, “thankfully the school was still open. I’m going to work on it now. I have a lot of catching up to do, so please don’t come in my room, Mother.”

“But, Poire!” her mother called from the kitchen. “You haven’t washed your hands with—”

“I did, Mother.” Poire paused in the middle of the stairs. “I washed my hands with the holy water, don’t worry. I was just too quiet, which is why you didn’t hear me.”

The silence that came next was all Poire needed to get away. Poire knew that, technically, if she had left for the pet store at the time she had initially planned to, there was at least thirty minutes left before her father came home. However, since there was certainly no certitude of this, Poire’s panic only rose. Sure, she could have simply gone to check a clock, but in her frenzy the girl had forgotten about their existence; and at the same time perhaps she was right to do so—for it was possible, in her mind, that she might not even know how to read the indications any longer.

Poire stood before the aquarium. Its filter was still making bubbles despite there being no soul inside to enjoy their company. She grabbed the bag containing the fish and opened it before pouring the extra load of water into the tank.

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And then, that is when she heard it: a key twisting in her front door’s lock.

It was Poire’s father. She heard his voice, as he greeted both her mother, and her brother. She gasped and almost dropped the bag, but thankfully managed to hold onto it long enough for the fish to swim free, and into its new home.

Without wasting any more time, Poire then ran out of the room, dashing toward her own in a race against the echoes of her father’s footsteps that creaked as he approached.

“Poire?” Poire’s father tilted his head. He looked to her, confused, with one brow raised. “What are you doing here?” he asked her.

Poire smiled. She leaned against her room’s doorway and said, “Nothing, Father. I simply felt like greeting you since you took the time out of your day to come back early for once.”

“Ah,” he sighed, “well, I guess I can’t be mad at that.” He ruffled her hair before walking toward his study. “Just be sure to finish your homework, okay, dear?”

“Yes, Father, I won’t dwell on it.”

He opened the door she closed seconds ago and paused. Poire wondered if he knew, if the heat of her skin was still radiating from the handle. Her father turned around. He looked at her.

He grinned. “Good night, Poire,” he said, before shutting the door again.

Poire waited a second, then two, until she stepped back into her room and placed a hand against her heart.

Her shoulders dropped.

She huffed.

The air that had once been so thick grew thin.

She could finally breathe again.