Chapter 3: A Moment of Peace

The gentle hum of an air conditioner filled the modest apartment, its cool breeze offering relief from the lingering heat of the early afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains, casting soft patterns of light across the worn, wooden floor.

The apartment was cosy, a space filled with warmth and love, though it was far from luxurious. Family photos adorned the walls, capturing memories of happier, simpler times—birthdays, holidays, and ordinary moments that now felt almost sacred.

Daniel sat on the couch, his legs crossed and a phone in his hand, framing the family on the screen. His dark hair was slightly tousled, evidence of his habitual ruffling when deep in conversation.

Across from him, his wife, Izabelle, was sitting on the floor with their two young children. Izabelle had long brown hair with residual hints of purple. Her large green and hazel coloured eyes flitted between the two children before her as she attempted to maintain their focus. She was above average in height for a woman, despite being barbarically mocked by her abnormal sized husband.

Three-year-old Diana, or 'Di Di, Dianasaur, Baby Di,' the list could go on all day, was busy with a puzzle, her tiny hands clumsily fitting the pieces together. Felix, their chubby one-year-old son, was nestled in Izabelle’s lap, chewing contentedly on a soft toy as his scruffy baby blonde hair kept finding its way into his mother's mouth when she attempted to talk.

“Jamie, you have to see them,” Daniel said into the phone, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His English accent was still maintained despite years of living in Canada. “Felix is finally getting the hang of playing football, and Little Di is practically a puzzle master at this point, provided the puzzle is only two pieces.”

Jamie’s voice crackled through the speaker, his tone warm and teasing, “I see she gets her intellect from you then.”

Daniel chuckled, his laughter light but genuine. “No chance, she's already way more advanced than me. I got stuck opening the box.”

From the floor, Izabelle glanced up, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she overheard the conversation. “That’s true. It’s truly a burden being the paragon of mental acuity in this household.”

Jamie’s laugh echoed through the phone, a deep and hearty sound that seemed to bridge the miles between them, before Daniel retorted, “I believe you mean instability instead of acuity, my dearest.”

A shadow of nostalgia passed over Daniel’s face, his thoughts momentarily drifting back to the streets of Bicester, the town he had once called home. “I miss being in England, man. But Canada’s been good to us, especially with everything that’s happened.”

Jamie’s voice softened, taking on a more serious tone. “Yeah, I get ya. You guys are doing okay now that the worst of it’s over?”

Daniel leaned back against the couch, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, we’re good. Mad, though, wasn’t it? Living through something like Covid… it felt like a bad dream half the time. But we made it through.”

“Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Jamie agreed. “I still can’t believe how quickly things escalated. One minute we were all just living our lives, and the next… well, you know.”

Izabelle, who had been listening quietly, chimed in, her voice calm and measured, “It’s surreal, really. The world feels different now, like we’re all so different because of it. But I’m grateful it’s over. We’re finally starting to see some normalcy again. Not to mention, we wouldn't have even thought to settle in Canada, we'd be stuck in rural Michigan or England. Not a Tim Horton's in sight.”

She pretended to shudder at the thought.

Little Di, sensing the sombre shift in the conversation, looked up from her puzzle, her wide, curious eyes fixed on her mother as her long brown fringe draped across her face. “Mummy, what’s ‘normacy’?”

Izabelle smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “It means things are going back to the way they were before, baby girl. When everything was okay.”

The little girl seemed to ponder this for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration before she nodded sagely, and returned to her puzzle. Felix, oblivious to the conversation, babbled happily as he continued gnawing on his toy.

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“Kids are resilient,” Jamie remarked after a pause. “They’ve got this amazing ability to adapt, even when things get tough.”

Daniel nodded, though Jamie couldn’t see him with the camera pointed at the kids. “Yeah, they're resilient, which is good because Felix is always trying to find new and creative ways to end his own life, the absolute clown.”

“Speaking of which,” Jamie said, his tone brightening, “when are you lot coming over to visit? I haven't had the chance to spoil those two.”

“We’re working on it,” Daniel replied with a grin. “Hopefully soon. We’ve just been waiting for everything to settle down. Maybe we can plan something for the holidays? So expensive though for all four of us and I'm just a poor boy from a poor family.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Jamie said, his voice warm with anticipation. “Can’t wait to see you all. It’s been far too long.”

“Definitely,” Daniel agreed, a touch of wistfulness in his tone. “We’ll make it happen, I promise.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that only close friends could share. Finally, Jamie spoke again, his voice laced with affection, “Take care of yourselves. And give Izzy and the kids a big hug from Uncle Jamie, yeah?”

Daniel smiled warmly as he looked straight into the camera. “No,” Daniel said softly. “You take care too, Jam. Chat soon, Bromosapien.”

After a few more exchanges of goodbyes, Daniel ended the call and set the phone down on the coffee table. He sighed, leaning back into the couch with a tired but contented smile. Izzy looked over at him, her expression gentle as she reached out to squeeze his hand.

“Jamie sends his love,” Daniel said, his voice slightly strained as he fought the familiar twitch that began to creep up on him.

Izabelle smiled, a soft warmth in her eyes. “I know, I was there. Haha, no it was good to talk to him again.”

Without warning, Daniel’s body jerked involuntarily, his hand flying to his face in a rapid, almost violent motion. He slapped his cheek with a sharp smack, his mouth emitting a small squeak—a tic he had known since childhood, one of many that had become as much a part of him as his own skin.

The sound startled Diana, who looked up with wide eyes. "Jeez," she uttered.

Izabelle, unfazed, reached over and gently rubbed his arm, offering silent comfort. “It’s okay, love,” she said quietly, “You’re doing great.”

Daniel forced a smile, though a flush of embarrassment coloured his cheeks. “Augh, annoying when it happens in front of them,” Daniel sighed, nodding towards the children.

“They’re fine,” Izabelle reassured him, her voice soothing, “They’re used to it, and so am I. It’s just part of who you are.”

Daniel took a deep breath, nodding as he tried to relax. “I know. I just wish it didn’t catch me off guard like that.”

Izabelle leaned over and kissed his temple, her touch lingering. “We love you just the way you are, Daniel. Tourette’s and all.”

He smiled at that, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thanks, Iz. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Well, other than being happy.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” she replied, her tone light but sincere before turning playfully dark, "Or I'll cut you!"

She turned her attention to the children, “Alright, who’s ready for lunch?”

“Me, me, me!” Diana chimed in, bouncing to her feet with all the energy of a typical three-year-old. Felix, though too young to understand, giggled in response as he clapped his tiny hands.

Daniel pushed himself off the couch, still feeling the lingering effects of the tic but determined not to let it spoil the moment. “What are we having?” he asked, rubbing his hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“How about sandwiches?” Izabelle suggested, standing up with Felix still perched on her hip. “We’ve got some leftover chicken from last night, and I can make those sandwiches you love.”

“Sounds perfect,” Daniel agreed, giving her a wink. “I’ll get the bread and stuff.”

As the family made their way into the kitchen, the apartment seemed to fill with the warmth of their chatter and laughter.

It was a moment of peace, a simple slice of life that felt almost too good to be true. But as they began preparing lunch, something strange and incredibly unexpected happened.

A soft, golden light filled the room, emanating from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The light was warm, almost comforting, but it carried an undercurrent of something ancient, something powerful.

Daniel stopped mid-step, his hand frozen on the handle of the refrigerator as he looked around in confusion.

“Iz… you see that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Izabelle turned, her eyes widening as she took in the sight.

The light seemed to pulse, growing brighter with each passing second.

Diana clung to her mother’s leg, her small face scrunched up in awe and fear, while Felix, oblivious, reached out with a gurgle of delight.

“What’s happening?” Izabelle gasped, her heart pounding in her chest.

Before either of them could react, the golden light enveloped them, wrapping around their bodies like a cocoon.

Daniel felt a strange sensation, as if he were being pulled apart and put back together all at once. He reached out for Izabelle and the kids, desperate to hold onto them, to protect them, but the light was too strong, too overwhelming.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the light vanished, plunging the apartment into darkness. The last thing Daniel heard before everything went black was the sound of his own heartbeat, echoing in his ears like a distant drum.

Then, silence.

The apartment, once filled with warmth and laughter, now stood empty and still, the only evidence of what had just transpired a faint, lingering glow in the air—a reminder of the strange and powerful forces that had just been set into motion.