Before Our Dawn| ongoing

sixty-three

Chapitre soixante-trois
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For the remainder of the trip, Klaus became increasingly withdrawn, retreating into himself like a tortoise seeking shelter in its shell. His laughter, once a bright spark that lit the cabin, faded into an echo of its former self, leaving behind a stifling silence that settled like a fog over the family.

Isra and Marcel exchanged their worry at night when the children slept. They understood that grief was a complex journey, each child navigating it in their own way, and they believed it would be best to allow Klaus the space to process his feelings. Yet, with each passing day, the worry grew like an insistent wave crashing against a shore, threatening to pull them under.

Klaus spent hours sitting alone on the top bunk, his back turned to the room as he gazed out at the churning ocean through the small porthole. His expression was one of deep contemplation, but the light in his eyes had dimmed. He seemed distant, almost as if he were adrift in a world of his own, isolated from the warmth of his family's love.

Heidi, on the other hand, was left feeling hurt and confused. Her once-joyful brother, who had been her partner in countless adventures, now felt like a stranger. She would often look up from her drawing or toy building, hoping for a smile or a playful nudge, but instead, she was met with silence. "Klaus?" she would call tentatively.

"Do you want to play with me?" But her words fell flat, swallowed by his silence.

Isra busied herself by tidying up, folding clothes and straightening blankets, but her mind was never far from Klaus. She felt an overwhelming urge to reach out to him, to pull him into her embrace and tell him it would all be okay. Yet, she understood the delicate balance between allowing him to feel and the instinct to protect him.

Marcel tried to engage him in conversation, sharing stories and jokes in an effort to coax him out of his shell, but he often found himself met with silence or a vague nod. The joy that once brightened their interactions had faded, leaving Marcel feeling helpless and frustrated.

As the days stretched on, Klaus's silence began to seep into Heidi's heart, casting a shadow over her once-bright spirit. She couldn't understand why her brother was acting this way, why he seemed so far away, wrapped in his own world of sadness. "Why won't he talk to me, mama?" she wondered. "Did I do something wrong?"

The confusion and worry etched on her young face pulled at Isra's heartstrings. "Klaus is just going through a tough time right now. Sometimes, when people are sad, it's hard for them to talk or play. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

"But I want to play..."

"Sometimes it just takes a little time."

Nothing could cheer Klaus up, even on the day they finally arrived in Algeria. The ship had docked, and the vibrant landscape of their new home unfolded before them, but he remained a picture of gloom.

In the cramped quarters of their cabin, the air buzzed with the soft sounds of zippers and fabric rustling as they gathered their belongings. Marcel stood in front of the small mirror, his fingers deftly buttoning up his crisp, white dress shirt. The shirt had a slight sheen to it, its fabric reflecting the morning light that streamed through the porthole. He tucked it neatly into his trousers, the navy-blue fabric hugging his waist comfortably, and secured it with a leather belt. A subtle tension tugged at the corners of his mouth, hinting at the worry he felt for Klaus.

Meanwhile, Isra knelt beside Heidi, who had just emerged from a warm bath. Water droplets still clung to her skin as Isra helped her put on a fresh cotton dress, the fabric light and airy with a soft floral pattern that danced across the surface. The dress was a delicate pale yellow, perfect for the sun-drenched days that lay ahead. Heidi giggled as her mother fastened the small buttons down the back, her tiny fingers fumbling to help while her hair, still damp, curled around her face.