Chapter 51: Chapter 51: What a Sister Should Be
Chapter 51: What a Sister Should Be
Food always tasted better when Cyrus did not have to pay for it.
Faye had made three simple lunch dishes, the kind of food that belonged on a family table because two kids still needed something mild, warm, and easy to eat. None of it looked expensive. None of it looked like restaurant food either. That did not matter, because it was free, it was hot, and Cyrus had enough self-control to remember that guests were supposed to eat like people, not like escaped animals.
He slowed himself down on purpose.
Across the table, Faye barely ate at first. She cut a piece smaller for Lena, pushed a napkin closer to Miles, reminded him not to talk with his mouth full, and checked both cups before either child asked. She did it so smoothly that the work almost disappeared. There was no scolding, no heavy sighing, and no performance about how tired she was.
Cyrus watched her for a while, and the fork in his hand slowed without him noticing.
They were both older sisters to someone.
The difference was almost unfair.
Maybe blood mattered. Isolde was not truly related to him, no matter how long she had been around. Yet she had watched him grow up, and there had been years when he called her his sister without thinking twice. He had once believed that word meant shelter.
Now he was sitting in someone else’s house, eating someone else’s lunch, learning from Faye what the word was supposed to look like.
By the time Cyrus had nearly emptied his plate, Faye had only taken a few bites. Once Miles and Lena finished and carried their own energy back toward the living room, she finally noticed how fast his food had disappeared.
"Do you want more?" she asked.
"I am almost full already," Cyrus said. "The food was really good, and I appreciate the meal."
Faye’s hand stopped near her fork.
Cyrus looked at the clean plates, the rice, the vegetables, and the simple way everything had been portioned for the kids first. "You are really good at this, Faye."
Her smile came quickly and left quickly, but it changed her face while it lasted. Faye was already pretty in a way that made people notice her without much effort. When she smiled like that, the prettiness became warmer, less like a classmate across a room and more like the person who kept a house running.
"You are making lunch sound much more impressive than it is," she said. "These are only a few things I usually cook at home."
"It is still worth saying," Cyrus said. "You deserve the credit."
Faye lowered her eyes and began eating a little faster now that the children were no longer depending on her every hand movement.
Cyrus did not return to the living room right away. He stayed at the table, hands resting politely near his empty plate, and waited while she ate.
Faye noticed after a few bites. "You can keep playing with them first. You do not need to wait for me."
"I had a lot of fun because of you," Cyrus said.
She glanced up again.
His bangs covered most of his face as usual, but the faint curve of his mouth was visible. Since he was not trying to flatter her, the thanks sounded cleaner than a compliment meant to impress.
"I have never played games with someone like that before," he continued. "I also have not eaten this well in a long time. It is all thanks to you."
The words were simple, and that made them harder to dismiss.
Faye had invited him over, let him play, fed him, and spoken to him without asking strange questions. She had not stared too long. She had not tried to pry into his life. She had not made kindness feel like something he would need to pay back later.
Compared with the neighbor next door, Faye was normal enough to make Cyrus wonder how low his standards had gotten.
Compared with Isolde, she was something Cyrus did not want to examine for too long.
This was what a sister should be.
Miles came back before the thought could sink deeper. Lena followed half a step behind him, holding onto the hem of his shirt with one hand. Miles stood beside Faye’s chair and tried very hard to sound casual.
"Faye, can Lena and I have pudding? We finished lunch properly."
Faye gave him a look that said she knew the request had been waiting since the first spoonful of lunch.
"You can have one cup each," she said. "Remember to bring one for Cyrus too."
Miles’s face lit up. "I can do that."
Lena followed him toward the kitchen, small socks brushing over the floor.
Cyrus did not interrupt the sibling exchange. When Faye stood to clear the table, he picked up his plate and gathered the nearest utensils.
"I can handle the dishes," Faye said. "You are a guest."
"I can still help with a few things."
He kept moving as he spoke, stacking plates with more care than skill. Faye’s motion slowed for a tiny beat, then she accepted the help instead of arguing.
They carried everything to the kitchen together. Faye rinsed the plates first, and Cyrus handed over cups, forks, and the small bowls the children had used. The sink was narrow, the counter had a drying rack, and a dish towel hung from the oven handle. It all felt used in the way a real kitchen should feel used.
No one ordered him around. No one praised him like a pet. The work simply passed between them, plate by plate, until the table behind them looked clear again.
The easy rhythm made the quiet comfortable.
Faye started speaking while she wiped the counter.
"My parents were moved overseas for work earlier this year," she said. "Changing schools in the middle of everything would have been hard on Miles and Lena, so the three of us stayed here."
Cyrus turned the faucet lower. "So you take care of them?"
"Most of the time," Faye said. "My parents send money, and we call when the time zones line up. Miles and Lena are good kids, so our days are not as difficult as people assume."
In the living room, Miles was explaining something to Lena with complete seriousness. Lena nodded while holding a pudding cup in both hands, as if dessert required full concentration.
"They do seem pretty easy," Cyrus said.
"They have their moments," Faye replied, and her voice carried affection instead of complaint.
The house made more sense now. There were no parents coming down the stairs, no adult voice asking whether the children had eaten, and no one reminding Faye to sit down before her own food went cold.
She had a house, a budget, and two siblings who trusted her.
She also had all the work that came with them.
Cyrus listened and found himself envying the wrong thing first.
The living money sounded wonderful. A steady amount that came from parents because children needed to live well was almost hard to imagine. Rent, food, electricity, games, air conditioning, pudding, and a house large enough that no one had to sleep beside a freezing wall. That alone was worth envying.
Then he looked at Faye, who could cook, clean, take care of two kids, and still speak gently.
Other people’s sisters could make lunch and buy games.
A sigh slipped out of him before he decided whether to allow it.
Faye looked over. "Are you tired?"
"I was thinking your siblings are lucky," Cyrus said.
Faye’s expression softened, but she did not push him for the rest of the thought.
Once the dishes were finished, they returned to the living room. Miles had already put a pudding cup on the coffee table with a spoon balanced neatly on top.
Faye picked it up and offered it to Cyrus. "Do you want this?"
"I do want it," Cyrus said. "Thanks for sharing."
The first spoonful surprised him.
The pudding was cool, soft, and sweet in a way that needed no effort from him. It came from a plastic cup with a peel-back lid, and that was perfectly fine. The texture alone explained why Miles had treated the request like an important negotiation.
So this was dessert after lunch.
The human world kept producing useful discoveries in the middle of normal afternoons.
Cyrus ate another spoonful and became even more certain that turning down Audra’s earlier lunch schedule had been the correct choice. Eating outside with Audra would have cost money. It would not have given him games, pudding, air conditioning, or food that tasted better than anything he would have bought on his own.
If Miles asked him to come over again, Cyrus would say yes without hesitation.
That kid truly understood brotherhood.
After dessert, Cyrus played with Miles and Lena for a while longer. Miles chose a less punishing game this time, and Lena sat nearby with a controller she barely understood but refused to surrender. She pressed buttons whenever Miles gave instructions and looked pleased each time something on screen moved because of her.
The excitement eventually caught up with both children.
Miles’s voice grew slower. Lena leaned against the side of the couch and blinked more than she talked. Even after sleeping late that morning, she looked ready to collapse into another nap.
Faye noticed first. She stood and said, "You two should rest for a while. We can play again later."
Miles complained, but the complaint had no strength left in it. Lena accepted the decision with the calm of a child who liked being guided when she was sleepy.
Before Faye led them away, Cyrus asked where the bathroom was.
"The sink is through that door," Faye said, pointing down the hall. "The bathroom is right beside it."
"I appreciate it."
The layout was different from his apartment. The sink area sat separate from the toilet and tub, tucked into a small alcove near the hallway. Cyrus pushed the door partway in, stepped to the basin, and looked into the mirror.
His bangs hung low over his eyes. The St. Alder uniform did its job, making him look gloomy, average, and forgettable enough to pass through school without inviting attention.
Faye had been kind to him anyway.
Cyrus lifted the hair from his forehead with one hand.
The face in the mirror changed at once. His features had not shifted, but the disguise stopped doing its work. His eyes, brow, and the fine shape of his face came forward under the bathroom light. The hidden version of him looked almost too clean for the plain uniform, the kind of face that made attention gather before he could step away from it.
Faye had still treated him normally.
She really was gentle.
He cupped water in both hands and pressed it over his face. The water was not cold enough to satisfy him, but it helped clear away the lazy comfort left by lunch, games, and the cool house.
When he straightened, he sensed movement behind him.
Cyrus turned toward the door.
Lena stood in the opening.
Her eyes were wide, and she stared with the stunned honesty only a child could get away with. She must have slipped out before Faye settled her into bed. Cyrus had not heard her approach until she was already there.
Separated bathrooms had one serious flaw.
For a short breath, neither of them spoke.
Cyrus raised one finger to his lips.
Lena obeyed at once. She did not call for Faye. She did not ask why he looked different. She only stared at the face he had forgotten to hide, as if she had found a secret and knew secrets were meant to stay quiet.
Cyrus lowered his bangs again in front of her. The gloomy schoolboy returned piece by piece until the mirror showed the same person who had walked into the house earlier.
Only then did Lena blink, like the hallway had finally come back around her.
When Cyrus passed her, he reached out and lightly patted her head.
"You are very good at keeping secrets," he said.
Lena nodded with a solemn expression that made him want to laugh.
From above, Cyrus thought he saw a quick silver glint behind her. It vanished almost as soon as he noticed it. The bathroom tile might have reflected something from the hall, so he did not spend much thought on it.
Lena was a good kid. She would probably grow up into someone kind, like Faye.
Back in the living room, Faye had just stepped out of the children’s room. Cyrus picked up his bag and met her near the entryway.
"Thanks for having me over today," he said.
"I should be thanking you," Faye said. "You played with them for a long time."
"I had fun, so everyone benefited."
Faye answered with a small smile. "I will see you at school tomorrow."
"I will see you tomorrow."
She watched him leave.
After the door closed, Faye returned to Lena’s room with a thoughtful expression.
Cyrus had not been sleeping through class as much lately. His grades were improving too. He seemed more awake than before, more present, and easier to talk to.
Faye did not know whether that was good or bad.
A boy who slept at his desk every day kept distance from everyone.
A boy who started waking up might get closer to people without noticing.
She might need to be more careful about the space between them.
Lena was already back in bed when Faye came in. The blanket reached her chest, but her eyes stayed open.
"Faye," Lena said softly.
"What is it?"
"When can Cyrus come over again?"
Faye sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the blanket near Lena’s shoulder.
"That depends on whether he has time next time. We have to ask him first."
Lena accepted the answer and curled deeper into the blanket.
Faye’s smile stayed faint and warm.
So Cyrus was that popular with kids too.
