With a resigned sigh, he nodded and walked away, but not before casting one last compassionate glance at the girls. “Shan, strong for each other,” he murmured softly. Words only the triplets could hear. It’s what their father would want. The social worker didn’t wait for the doctor to leave completely before taking charge. With mechanical efficiency, she led the three girls to a small, empty waiting room at the end of the corridor.
It was a sterile, impersonal environment, with uncomfortable plastic chairs and faded beige walls, illuminated by intermittent, whirring fluorescent lights. There was no effort to make the space welcoming for girls who had just suffered a traumatic loss, just a bureaucratic functionality that reflected the social worker’s own approach. “I’m sorry about your father,” she said, opening her folder on the table and arranging various forms into neat stacks. “We need to figure out where you’ll go now.”
“Don’t they have any other relatives?” Laya asked, sitting between her sisters and holding both their hands tightly. She shook her head. Her eyes, swollen from crying, watched the social worker’s every move with instinctive distrust. Isabel, beside her, analyzed the documents on the table, her analytical mind working even amidst the pain, trying to decipher what those papers would mean for their future. Iris, on the other side, continued to cry silently, her gaze lost as if she were still searching for her father in the void.
“He always said there were only four of us in the world,” Laya replied, her voice small but firm. “He said we were enough for each other.” The social worker made a few notes on a form without showing any emotional reaction to the girl’s answer. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical, as if she were dealing with statistics and not three shattered lives. The silence in the room was broken only by the whirring of the lamp and the occasional stifled sob from Iris.
For a moment, the only sound was the scratching of a pencil on paper, clinically documenting the tragedy of these girls. As I suspected, the social worker finally spoke without looking up from her papers. “Unfortunately, we can’t keep all three of you together. There isn’t an institution with space for three girls of the same age. Each of you will go to a different shelter.” The words landed like a second devastating blow. If Father’s death had been like losing the ground beneath their feet, this new revelation was like discovering they couldn’t even fall together.
Shock flashed simultaneously across the three identical faces. The girls squeezed each other’s hands tighter, as if physical contact could prevent the imminent separation. Silent tears streamed down Laya and Isabel’s faces, while Iris let out small, broken sobs. “You can’t do that.” Isabel found her voice, usually the calmest of the three, now trembling with emotion. “We promised our father we’d stay together. It was the last thing he asked of us.” The social worker finally looked up from her papers, adjusting her glasses with a mechanical gesture.
Her gaze held no active cruelty, only a professional indifference cultivated over years of dealing with similar tragedies. To her, the triplets were just another case, three more numbers in an overburdened system that had no room for sentimental considerations or promises made to a dying man. “I understand it’s difficult, but that’s how the system works,” she explained, her tone didactic and devoid of empathy. “We have protocols to follow and limited resources. Perhaps they can be reunited in the future if a family comes along interested in adopting all three.”
Laya felt a rising rage replacing some of the pain. Her free hand instinctively reached for the fragment of the medallion her father had given her, clutching it so tightly that its jagged edges marked her palm. Ivan’s words echoed in her mind with crystal clarity. Promise that you will never be apart. No matter what happens. She looked at her sisters and saw the same thought reflected in their eyes. In that moment, without needing to speak, the three of them made an irrevocable decision.
“When?” Laya asked, trying to keep her voice steady and her face as neutral as possible, concealing the determination that was now growing inside her. “When are we going? When is this going to happen?” The social worker, oblivious to the silent plan that was beginning to take shape between the sisters, checked her watch with clinical efficiency. Her expression revealed no understanding of the emotional gravity of the situation for the girls in front of her. Only the desire to complete one more task on her overloaded schedule.
She closed the folder with a final click and stood up, smoothing her blazer with precise movements. “The vehicles are already waiting to take you,” she replied, moving toward the door. “I’ll call the drivers. Stay here and don’t leave the room. I’ll be right back to get you.” As soon as the door closed behind the social worker, a heavy silence fell over the room. The triplets looked at each other, their communication transcending the need for words.
Laya, the natural leader, took her fragment of the medallion and held it up. Saesabeleiris immediately did the same, the three pieces gleaming under the cold light of the fluorescent lamps. A tangible reminder of the promise made to Father. “Let’s go now,” Laya whispered, her voice low but filled with determination. “They won’t separate us, we promised Dad.” Isabel, always the strategist, was already scanning the room for escape routes. Her observant eyes quickly spotted a small side door that likely led to a bathroom.
If there was a window in there, they might have a chance. She squeezed Laya’s hand in a silent sign of agreement, her mind already calculating possibilities and risks with a maturity beyond her years. “Through the bathroom door,” Isabel murmured, discreetly nodding. “If there’s a window, we can get out. We have to be quick and quiet.” Iris, though usually the most fearful of the three, now displayed the same resolve in her eyes. The thought of being separated from her sisters was more terrifying than any danger they could face together.
She resolutely wiped away her tears, carefully placing her fragment of the medallion in her dress pocket, making sure it was safe during their planned escape. “I’m scared, but I’m even more scared of losing you,” Iris confessed, her voice trembling slightly as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. “Where will we go next?” There was no time to plan beyond the immediate moment. With an almost imperceptible gesture, Laya signaled to her sisters, and the three of them rose simultaneously, moving with the natural synchronicity of those who had shared the same space since before birth.
They crossed the room in silence, their light footsteps almost inaudible on the worn linoleum. Laya carefully opened the side door, revealing, as they expected, a small staff bathroom. The tilt-up window above the toilet was narrow, but wide enough for seven-year-old girls to squeeze through. Isabel, ever practical, immediately pushed the toilet seat down and climbed on top of it, testing whether the window opened. To her relief, though rusty, the hinges gave way with a soft creak.
From outside, she could see the hospital’s outer courtyard and beyond, the street and freedom. “It’ll work,” Isabel whispered, her calculating tone bringing confidence to her sisters. “I’ll help you climb up, and then you pull me up from the other side.” Laya nodded, helping Iris up onto the toilet first. Being the lightest and most agile of the three, Iris managed to squeeze through the narrow opening with relative ease, though her dress caught momentarily on the window frame.
From outside, she grabbed the sill and then jumped to the lawn below, landing on her knees but quickly getting up. Isabel held Laya’s hand, supporting her as she went next. “Quickly,” Isabel urged, hearing distant footsteps in the hallway. “I think they’re coming back.” Laya squeezed through the window with more difficulty than Iris, her slightly more robust body requiring awkward contortions to get through the narrow opening. For a terrifying moment, she was caught at the waist, but with a determined pull, she managed to free herself, landing beside Iris on the lawn.
Immediately, the two positioned themselves under the window, extending their arms to help Isabel out. Isabel, the last to escape, had just climbed onto the toilet when she heard the front doorknob turning. Without time to hesitate, she threw herself out the window with force, ignoring the scratch of the rusty metal on her arms. Haya and Iris grabbed her hands, pulling with all the strength their small bodies would allow. When the bathroom door opened, Isabel was already out, only her feet still visible at the window.
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