The fear of being lost compounded the physical and emotional exhaustion of that terrible day. “I think we should have turned at the last street,” Isabel admitted, pausing momentarily to try and get her bearings. Everything seems different at night. In the distance, the sound of sirens began to echo through the city. They weren’t the usual sirens of ambulances or police cars responding to routine emergencies. There was a different cadence, slower and more methodical, which the girls instinctively associated with the search for them.
The system had been activated, and now the entire social services apparatus was mobilized to find the three runaway orphans. “They’re looking for us,” Iris whispered, “the fear evident in her trembling voice. They’ll find us and separate us.” Laya squeezed her sister’s hand tighter, trying to project a confidence she didn’t fully feel. Her heart pounded in her chest, both from physical exertion and fear, but she knew she needed to appear strong for the sake of all three of them.
It was the role she had assumed even at her father’s bedside, and she couldn’t fail now. “They won’t separate us,” Laya affirmed with fierce determination. “We’ll keep walking. The park must be right ahead.” The first raindrops began to fall, large and heavy, heralding the approaching storm. In a matter of minutes, the drizzle transformed into a downpour that soaked the girls’ light clothing. Their hair, carefully braided by their father that morning in an everyday gesture of love that now seemed to belong to another life, clung to their faces, wet with rain and the tears they could no longer hold back.
“There!” Isabel exclaimed suddenly, pointing toward a darker area ahead. “It’s the park. I recognize that entrance.” With renewed energy, the triplets ran toward the large iron gate that marked the entrance to the municipal park. During the day, the place was full of families and children playing, but at night, in the pouring rain, it was completely deserted. The streetlights barely illuminated the winding paths between the trees, creating shadows that danced menacingly. Under other circumstances, none of them would have had the courage to go in there alone, but together they found the necessary bravery.
“The playhouse is on the other side, near the lake,” Iris remembered, squinting to see through the curtain of rain. “Will we make it there before we get completely soaked?” They moved through the park, their footsteps making wet sounds on the drenched grass. The cold wind cut through their light dresses, making them shiver uncontrollably. The fragments of the medallion tucked into their pockets felt heavier now, as if they carried not only the memories of Father, but also the responsibility of the promise made to him.
“I’m so cold,” Iris murmured, her teeth chattering. “I miss Dad. He always knew what to do.” In the distance, beyond the park’s boundaries, the sirens continued their persistent wail. Through the window of a passing car on the main avenue, they could hear snippets of a radio transmission. Three identical girls, seven years old, runaway orphans. Find them, but don’t scare them. The search was intensifying, and the net was closing in around them. “We’re almost there,” Laya encouraged, even though her own body was trembling with exhaustion and cold—just a little more.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity walking in the relentless rain, they spotted the familiar outline of the playhouse, a small wooden structure built to resemble a chalet with colorful windows and a pointed roof. It was smaller than they remembered, but at that moment it seemed as welcoming as a palace. They ran the last few meters, almost stumbling in their haste to reach that precarious refuge from the storm. “We made it,” Isabel sighed as the three of them squeezed inside the little house, the cramped space barely accommodating their small bodies.
“At least we’re dry here.” The playhouse partially muffled the sound of the rain and distant sirens, creating a momentary illusion of safety. Sitting on the wooden floor, the triplets hugged each other, sharing what little body heat they had left. Their wet dresses clung uncomfortably to their skin, and the cold was beginning to seep deep into their bones, but they were together, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. “What will we do tomorrow?” Iris asked, her small voice almost lost in the sound of the rain against the roof.
“We can’t stay here forever.” It was a question none of them had the answer to. Seven-year-old girls, however determined and brave, weren’t prepared to face the world alone. They had no money, no food, and no plan beyond immediate escape. Reality was beginning to set in, bringing with it doubts that not even a promise to their father could easily dispel. “We’ll think about it in the morning,” Laya replied, hugging her sisters tighter.
“Now we need to rest. Tomorrow we’ll find a way.” The three of them settled themselves as best they could in the small space, forming a small circle of mutual protection against the outside world. Each clutched her fragment of the medallion, their father’s last gift, like a talisman against despair. The rain continued to fall relentlessly outside, and sirens could still be heard in the distance, but inside that small refuge, they had won a temporary victory. “Promise you’ll never leave us, Laya,” Iris pleaded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, struggling to stay open.
Promise us we’ll always be together, no matter what. Laya looked at her sisters, perfect copies of herself, yet unique in their own ways. She felt the weight of the responsibility she had taken on, but also the strength that came from the love they shared. With a conviction beyond her years, she clasped her sisters’ hands and repeated the words that would be her mantra in the difficult days ahead. I promise in the memory of our Father.
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