The sky gradually grew dark, and it was hard to make out the plants in the field. The strain of work became unbearable, so the villagers gradually gathered inside their homes. Another day was drawing to a close; they were in a hurry, wanting to escape the biting cold that embraced all of nature, but their fatigued bodies shuffled along the rural road. They longed to be close to the warmth of the fire, which would warm their tired bodies and souls. It was April, and winter still refused to give way to spring.

Helen, distracted, was mechanically setting the table, while Kostas, her father-in-law, was playing with the five-year-old twins, little Kostas and little Simela. He was showing them his sleight-of-hand tricks, and every time the coin appeared out of nowhere, they jumped up and down with excitement. Her mother-in-law, old Froso, with a heavy, dragging gait, set the hot pot of steaming soup on the low table, interrupting their game. It was the signal that everything was ready to eat, and quickly everyone took their place around the low table.

Eleni, absorbed in her thoughts and without appetite, kept stirring her spoon in the thickened soup. This did not escape her father-in-law’s notice, who watched her sideways with his left eye until he finally asked her, “What’s the matter, my girl? Why aren’t you eating?”

“Well, father… it’s been a month since Michalis left for Thessaloniki, and we still haven’t received a single letter.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll write. Is it possible for my son to forget his family? Be patient, and don’t forget he’s in an unfamiliar city. Until he learns his way around, it takes some time. He went for work, not for pleasure, so don’t be anxious, he will write.”

A sudden knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and everyone looked at one another, wondering who it could be at such an hour. Kostas got up, went to the door, and opened it.

“Welcome, Murat. Come in, don’t stand out in the cold. Sit down. Eleni, set a plate for Murat.”

“No, thank you, I’ve just eaten, I’m full.”

“Then sit and let’s have a coffee.”

For many years, Kostas and Murat had been neighbors, bound by a close friendship between them and their families, even though one was Muslim and the other Christian.

“You look troubled, Murat. Tell me, what weighs on your soul?”

Murat sighed heavily. He still did not know how to tell his friend the bad news. He also knew very well that this confession would make him a traitor in the eyes of his fellows. Yet he could not remain silent, betraying their long-standing friendship and ignoring the fate of his friend and his family.

To be continued …

©2026, Vasiliki Papadopoulou