Sometimes alone.
Sometimes with Yannis.
The moment Yannis walked into the room, everything shifted.
He moved fast — eyes searching for his sister.
When he saw her sleeping in the bassinet beside my bed, his expression softened instantly.
“She’s so tiny,” he whispered one afternoon.
He stood at the edge of the bed while I nursed her.
His gaze locked onto her face like she was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
“Like a doll.”
His fingers hovered uncertainly near the blanket.
“Can I hold her?”
I smiled — warmth spreading through my chest.
“Of course.”
I adjusted my position and carefully guided his arms.
“Support her head.”
“Good.”
“Don’t squeeze — just hold.”
He followed instructions carefully.
When I placed her in his arms, his entire body stiffened.
Like he was suddenly responsible for something sacred.
She shifted slightly.
Then let out a tiny coo.
Yannis’ eyes widened.
“She made a sound!”
His lips curved into a grin — pure joy lighting his face.
Petros watched from the armchair nearby.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“You’re doing well, Yannis,” he said quietly.
Then he looked at me.
“And you’ve done well too, Elena.”
