In the swirling haze of the dream, a woman’s voice pierced through the wooden door of the apartment like the wail of a siren lost at sea, echoing down the twisting staircase of the building in Thessaloniki for all to hear: „What’s wrong with you again?! How much longer?! I’ve had enough of all this!”
At that moment Eleni and Matthaios were climbing the stairs. They froze as if snared in a net of unseen olive branches. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and in that silent exchange no words were needed. Both understood at once: it was wiser to turn away now. Sighing together as if moved by the same hidden wind, they pivoted and slipped quietly from the building. Returning home that evening was clearly not written in the shifting sands of the night.
Who would choose to spend hours listening to endless parental storms? Certainly not them. The siblings strode toward the neighboring staircase where their yiayia Kalliope lived. Lately her apartment had become their only shelter in the fog. Once they visited only on weekends; now they sought refuge there almost every night.
The air inside the parental home had long curdled into something unbreathable. The parents, forgetting all else, hurled words at each other without pause. Worst of all, they began pulling the children into the whirlpool. Sometimes the mother would spin toward her daughter and demand, „Tell me, am I right? You agree, don’t you?” Sometimes the father would cut in before any reply and press his son, „No, I am right here! Say it!”
Eleni and Matthaios stayed silent. They refused to pick sides or sink into the endless clash. They wanted only quiet, warmth, and calm, the very things that waited at yiayia’s.
Such scenes repeated like the turning of an invisible wheel that no one could halt. The children had learned the faint signs: the sharpening of voices, the stiffening of gestures, the quick glances between parents. All of it signaled that the storm was rising and it was time to vanish. Who among children would wish to live in constant tightness, where any talk might crack into thunder at any moment?
The siblings could not grasp what had cracked their world open. Their family had never been flawless like the pictures in shop windows, yet before the parents had known how to mend things. Quarrels came and went, but they ended in quiet talks. Mother might frown, father might lift his voice, yet after half an hour the waters calmed. Everyone sat again at the table, sipped tea, and spoke of weekend plans.
Roughly two years earlier everything had shifted, as if unseen hands had swapped the old parents for strangers who now quarreled over the smallest crumbs. A dirty cup left on the table? A long speech about carelessness. A shirt on the wrong hook? Sharp words about disorder. A spoon forgotten in the sink? A crime that demanded minutes of judgment. In the dream those objects seemed to whisper their own accusations.
One evening Eleni sat in yiayia’s kitchen, stirring her tea in slow circles. She watched the amber swirls spin like lost souls drifting on the Aegean and finally asked with quiet pain, „How did it happen, yiayia? Everything changed after their trip to the islands. What took place there?”
Kalliope paused, set her cup down, and brushed her hand gently across Eleni’s. She too only guessed at the roots of the rift, and the guesses brought her no comfort.
„Adults will sort it out,” she answered softly, steadying her voice. „Sometimes people need time to see the right path.”
Eleni nodded, yet doubt lingered in her gaze. She knew yiayia held something back, but she did not press. What use, when they still saw her as a child?
„We cannot bear these shouts anymore!” Matthaios cried, despair cracking his words. „We cannot finish lessons or read a page in peace. I cannot remember the last time we ate together as a family. If they cannot stand each other, let them part and spare us all!”
The words burst free, carrying the truth of many months. Matthaios spoke for both; he knew his sister felt the same ache. Silence had fled their home long ago. Mother would snap, father would answer with irritation, and the clash would swallow everything once more.
„Matthaios” yiayia faltered. She laid aside her knitting, whose threads in the dream seemed to unravel into strands of fate, and looked at her grandson. „Have you thought what will happen if they part? You will be split apart. Are you ready to live without Eleni?”
„We will live with you!” Eleni said at once, eyes pleading. „We are already here almost every night. You do not mind, do you?”
Kalliope grew still. She understood their weariness, saw how the endless fights had drained them. On one side the children would be safe here, in a place of quiet where lessons could be done without shouting and books read without fear. She loved them beyond measure and would wrap them in care.
On the other side stood their parents. How to tell them the children no longer wished to return? Would they accept it? And if they did, what would become of the bond between them? Might this step end in a complete breaking of ties?
„Let us not hurry,” she said at last, drawing a slow breath. „I am always glad to have you here. But first let us speak with your mother and father. Perhaps together we can find a way to mend what is broken.”
„Do not worry, we will speak with them,” Eleni declared, a small smile breaking through. Yiayia was nearly persuaded, and that mattered most. „Only do not refuse us! We truly cannot stay there. It will be better for them apart, or one day they will truly harm each other. I saw father raise his hand to mother yesterday He did not strike, truly, but he stood on the edge.”
She fell silent, recalling the moment that had stretched like melted glass. She had entered the kitchen for water and halted: father half-turned, arm lifted, mother ducking. A single heartbeat had become an age.
„Yiayia, agree!” Matthaios urged. He stepped closer and took her hand as though it might slip away. „We will help with everything in the house. Only do not send us back. They pay us no mind at all. Yesterday I told father about the parent meeting. He said, 'Go to your mother.’ So I went. Guess what she answered?”
„Go to your father?” Kalliope asked softly, already knowing.
„Exactly,” Matthaios replied with a bitter twist. „Then they argued for two more hours over who would attend. They sat in separate rooms and shouted across the hallway while I stood and listened.”
„I asked them to sign the form for the museum trip,” Eleni added, eyes lowered, fingers twisting her sleeve. „Now I am the only one in class who will not go. Neither signed it. Instead they began to quarrel again. Mother shouted it was father’s duty; father insisted mother should handle school matters.”
Kalliope watched her grandchildren and saw the deep exhaustion in their faces. It was not ordinary tiredness but the kind built month after month, when every day mirrored the last, when family warmth had been replaced by constant noise and indifference.
„It is always this way,” Matthaios sighed, shoulders sagging. „Every request of ours becomes fuel for another fight. We do not even want to come home. A few nights ago we returned at eleven and they did not scold us. They simply sent us to bed without asking where we had been. Later they blamed each other for poor upbringing.”
The twins sighed together once more. In recent months they had begun to see divorce as the only escape. Yet the thought of being parted from each other terrified them. One would stay with mother, one with father, and their closeness would shrink to occasional weekends.
They whispered about choices in the evenings when alone in their room. Once Matthaios joked about running away, taking backpacks and vanishing wherever the road led. He smiled to lighten the air, yet Eleni took the idea seriously. Her eyes flared for a moment before she whispered, „What if we truly left, even for two days?” In that instant both understood the family air had grown so heavy that escape no longer seemed impossible.
Then the thought arrived like a sudden breeze: yiayia. Why not ask to live with her? The idea rose in both minds at once. Eleni spoke first. „Let us ask yiayia if we may stay here. She will never shout. We will not have to hear the endless fights.” Matthaios answered at once. „Yes! She is kind and always helps us. Her apartment is large enough.”
They began to picture mornings without raised voices, afternoons for lessons in stillness, evenings with board games beside yiayia. No accusations, no need to hide behind closed doors. Hope stirred for the first time in a long while. Let the parents untangle their own knots; the twins would finally breathe.
In the dream the images shimmered and dissolved like paint in rain.
„Mother, father, we must speak seriously,” the twins said together, standing before their parents one evening. They had waited until both were home and entered the living room with steady steps. Eleni gripped Matthaios’s hand to hold her courage. „But first promise to hear us through before you answer.”
Michalis looked up from his phone, surprised. Dimitra, sorting items on the couch, straightened abruptly, her face showing that the children had spoken something unthinkable.
„This is your doing!” she snapped, arms folding. „The children now set rules for us, as though we must answer to them!”
„And who speaks!” Michalis shot back, dropping the phone. „I work constantly to keep the family fed. You were always with them. What did you teach them that they now command us?”
The twins glanced at each other. They had expected the talk to slide into the usual accusations, yet they could not retreat.
„Enough!” Eleni cried, voice trembling though she tried to keep it clear. „Matthaios and I have decided you must divorce.”
Silence fell like a sudden curtain. Dimitra’s mouth stayed half open. Michalis rose slowly from the couch.
„Such news!” the mother said, voice low and dangerous. „Eleni, you are still too young to instruct adults on how to live. And what else have you decided? Will you divide the apartment for us as well?”
„If you do not divorce, we will go to the social services,” Matthaios said, squeezing his sister’s hand for strength. His voice held firm even while doubt stirred inside. „Then, father, you may lose your position. Your firm dislikes scandals; you said yourself that reputation is everything.”
„And you, mother,” Eleni continued, meeting Dimitra’s eyes, „will lose the respect of the neighbors. They will not speak to you. Everyone already hears the shouting; we can add more.”
„They threaten us! Look at them!” Dimitra burst out, glancing between the two. „These are our own children. How can you speak this way?”
„We do not threaten,” Matthaios answered quietly. „We only want you to see that this life cannot continue. We are tired of the noise, of being unheard, of every small request becoming a battle.”
„You will divorce and move apart, and we will stay with yiayia,” the twins finished together as they had planned. „It will be better for all: peace for us, an end to constant clashes for you. We no longer wish to stand between you like two fires.”
The parents remained still. For the first time in many months they had no reply. Usually they would argue at once, cutting each other off, naming faults. Now both seemed struck mute.
Their thirteen-year-old children stood hand in hand, gazing steadily without the old hesitation. They spoke of matters the adults themselves avoided.
The couple had considered parting more than once. Always the same question stopped them: with whom would the children live? Separating the twins was unthinkable; they moved through life as one, supporting each other at every turn. The parents could not picture splitting them into different houses, meeting only on weekends.
They had never thought of yiayia as a solution. Both had been too wrapped in their own grievances. Yet now, hearing the proposal, Michalis and Dimitra wondered whether this might be the path. Yiayia loved the children, her apartment was spacious, she welcomed them always. Perhaps it could ease at least some of the strain.
„I will call my mother,” Michalis said at last, words coming slowly. „If she agrees”
He did not finish. Dimitra cut in, her voice carrying a fatigue that surprised even her.
„Then we will stop tormenting each other at last. Call her. I will be glad not to see your face every day.”
Her words hung in the air. She had not meant to sound so sharp, yet years of hurt had pushed them out.
„And I will be just as glad,” Michalis answered, masking pain with a thin smile. There was no anger in his tone, only weary acceptance of what their life had become. He took out his phone and dialed. While the rings sounded, both looked away from each other. They did not know where the call would lead, only that some line had already been crossed.
In the dream the ringing rose from the bottom of an ancient well.
That day the Theodorou family reached a turning point. It began with Michalis’s long talk with his mother. Kalliope listened without interruption, asking only now and then for clarity.
When he finished, a pause opened. Yiayia drew a deep breath.
„If you both believe this is best for the children, I agree. They will be safe here. I will look after them.”
By evening the couple met in the kitchen for the first time in many months without raised voices or blame. They sat facing each other and spoke of details. Step by step they reached the same conclusion: divorce was the only clear way forward. The children would move to yiayia’s, and the parents would send monthly support for their care.
Neither intended to abandon the children. Both promised to visit on weekends, yet on separate days so their paths would not cross. „I will come Saturday mornings and take them out,” Michalis said wearily. Dimitra nodded. „You come Sundays. That way it is simpler. The children must not feel left behind.”
Their aim was to keep contact small and avoid fresh storms. They agreed not to speak ill of each other in front of the children, not to pull them into sides, not to argue when the twins were present.
„We remain their parents,” Michalis said. „We must stay so even if we are no longer husband and wife.”
Time proved the choice sound. The children at last relaxed and lived as ordinary teenagers. Eleni joined a drawing circle she had long wished for but had never found time amid the worries. Matthaios began football and made friends in the team. They walked the city together again, went to films, spoke of school without fear that a shout would break in.
Stability returned to their studies. They now had a quiet place for work, free of sudden noise. Homework was finished without tension, and grades rose. Teachers remarked, „You have grown so attentive. Keep going.”
Life settled into a new rhythm, not perfect yet steady. The children stopped hiding in their room, stopped jumping at loud voices, stopped fearing each step. They simply lived as teenagers who had found a steady place in troubled times.
In the dream the years moved like rivers meeting the sea.
Five years later the life of the Theodorou family flowed evenly. Eleni and Matthaios had grown used to the pattern: lessons, clubs, friends, evenings with yiayia. The parents still visited in turn, each on their day, bringing gifts yet without old claims. Over time they had learned to speak with restraint and courtesy.
The first direct meeting between the former spouses came at the twins’ graduation evening. The school held a celebration; both parents attended. They sat apart at first, watchful, but slowly the distance lessened.
When dancing began, Michalis approached Dimitra.
„Shall we dance? For old times.”
She paused, then nodded.
Afterward they sat long in the schoolyard, watching graduates laugh by the fountain. Talk came naturally, first about the children, then about the past. They recalled good moments from their marriage and behaved with dignity. They spoke of what had once bound them, not of old wounds. From a distance the twins watched and felt a quiet gladness, though it still hurt to see their parents treat each other like strangers.
Yet thunder broke from a clear sky. The next day Michalis and Dimitra invited the children to a café. Over tea they took each other’s hands and Michalis smiled broadly.
„Children, your mother and I have thought and decided to marry again. These years have shown us our feelings never died. We still love each other and wish to be a family once more.”
His voice carried joy, as though sharing the finest news. Dimitra shone, expecting delight.
The twins looked at each other, faces darkening at once. Distrust flickered in Eleni’s eyes; Matthaios clenched his fists beneath the table. Again the same mistake! What moved in their parents’ minds? Could they live together without storms?
„You are serious?” Eleni managed.
„Completely,” Michalis answered. „We have both changed. We learned to listen. We want to give our family another chance.”
The children stayed silent. Inside, feelings warred: a wish to believe change was real, and fear of repeating old pain.
They did not argue against the plan. They offered no comment, which wounded the parents deeply. Dimitra stared, confused.
„You are not happy? We thought you would rejoice for us.”
The twins only glanced at each other and lifted their shoulders. What could they say without sounding cold or false? Words caught in their throats.
The rest of the meeting drifted. Parents spoke of plans; children nodded politely while their thoughts wandered. On the way home Eleni murmured to her brother, „I hope they know what they are doing.”
Matthaios only sighed.
In the dream the café drifted on clouds of doubt.
„So we go to Athens?” Eleni opened her laptop and began searching university sites. „Far from this madness. I can already see how this circus will finish.”
„Of course we go,” Matthaios said firmly, weariness beyond his years in his voice. He ran a hand through his hair as though brushing off the weight of recent months. „They will manage a month, perhaps two. Then it starts again: shouts, slamming doors, accusations. I refuse to remain a hostage to their bond. I refuse to wake each morning guessing their mood and who will receive the next wave of blame.”
He rose and paced, gathering scattered books without thought. The same question circled: why did adults, meant to show wisdom and steadiness, act like restless children? Why did they keep stepping on the same thorns instead of mending what was broken?
„We must leave,” he repeated, stopping at the window. Twilight settled outside, tinting the city in soft orange. Matthaios gazed far, as if searching for his own future in the haze. „Far enough that their quarrels cannot reach us. Let them untangle themselves. We are no longer their counselors, their go-betweens, their shields. We have our own lives, our own dreams, and I will not let another storm of theirs destroy what is ours.”
„When do we send the papers?” Eleni asked calmly.
„Tomorrow,” Matthaios answered without pause. „Before we can change our minds.”
She nodded, eyes on the screen. Pages of Athens universities appeared. For a week she had studied programs, dormitory rules, job chances after graduation. Lists grew in her notebook: advantages and drawbacks of each place, documents needed, deadlines, contacts.
„The main thing is to study in peace, away from their fights,” she said quietly. „It is good we will be so far.”
„Exactly,” Matthaios agreed, sitting beside her. He leaned in to read. „When they begin again to decide who is at fault, we will not even hear. Let them call and complain and summon us to family councils. We no longer join that. Their wish to 'give the relationship another chance’ is their choice, not ours.”
In the dream the laptop glowed like a portal to another realm.
Dimitra and Michalis did hold a second wedding. This time they chose simplicity: no large expense, no crowds, no need for grandeur. They kept to a quiet ceremony at the registry office and a small dinner with closest family and friends.
In the photographs they appeared truly content, hands linked, eyes soft. Their fingers were woven together, their touches light. It seemed all old hurts had faded, that time apart had helped, that they now knew their path and a bright stretch lay ahead. Looking at the images, the twins wondered whether this time the story might truly differ.
Yet it did not. The first weeks after the wedding passed calmly. The couple tried to be attentive, to say thanks often, to overlook small faults. Gradually old patterns returned. Within a month raised voices sounded again. At first the reproaches stayed low and sharp: „You left your things again?” „Why did you not say you would be late?” „You could help since you are home.”
Then open clashes began. Fights flared over trifles: wet towels in the bathroom, forgotten bread, the television too loud. Words grew cutting, voices louder, gaps between storms shorter.
After two months, just as Matthaios had foreseen, the tension broke. One evening an argument over groceries turned fierce. Michalis, losing hold, flung a cup against the wall. It shattered; pieces scattered. Dimitra seized a plate and hurled it to the floor. The crash rang through the rooms.
After such moments the parents always called the children. Each call began the same: one of them dialed while still breathless and poured out the fresh grievances.
„Can you imagine what he said today?” Dimitra would weep when Eleni answered. „He refuses to understand me.”
„Son, you must see my side; she cannot control herself,” Michalis would tell Matthaios. „I try, yet she seems to seek reasons.”
Eleni and Matthaios had learned to cut these talks short with gentle firmness. They no longer entered long debates or tried to judge right and wrong. Their replies stayed brief and steady.
„Mother, I am in class; I will call later,” Eleni would say, watching the clock though she had no wish to hear more.
„Father, I have urgent work; we can speak on the weekend,” Matthaios would answer, eyes on his screen. He knew that letting the parent continue would stretch the call an hour, followed by the need to soothe.
„Later” and „on the weekend” were always delayed. The twins found reasonsstudies, part-time work, friendsand calls grew rarer. They felt no guilt; they simply guarded their own peace, knowing they could not fix what passed between their parents.
The twins now held lives of their own, full and distant from parental storms. Their days were shaped by their own concerns, not by waiting for the next outburst behind a wall.
Eleni lost herself in psychology. She enjoyed tracing how the human mind worked, why people chose certain paths, how to aid those in distress. In her third year she began volunteering at a center for teenagers from troubled homes. She led groups, helped the young express feelings, and find exits from hard places. In them she saw shadows of her own past and offered what she had once missed: attention, support, the sense of being heard.
Matthaios turned to IT. From early years programming drew him with its clear logic, the power to build systems that functioned, the solving of tangled tasks. He spent hours at the screen, learned new languages, joined student events. In his fourth year his team placed third in a regional contest for mobile applications. This gave him confidence and confirmed his direction. He took part-time work at a small firm and proved reliable. Through real projects he learned to work with others, manage time, and handle unexpected problems.
The twins planned ahead without reference to parental storms. Eleni hoped to open her own practice helping families speak again. Matthaios considered starting his own work. Over tea in cafés they sketched ideas and wrote them down. In those moments they felt they possessed a foundation, a direction, a life that was theirs alone.
When Dimitra and Michalis tried once more to pull them into their troubles, calling in tears to describe how badly things stood and how little they understood each other, the twins answered calmly and firmly. They had agreed beforehand how to speak so they would not be drawn back into old roles.
„Enough, dear parents. Sort it out yourselves,” Eleni said steadily. „You have your life; we have ours.”
„But you are our children!” Dimitra sobbed. „You must support us.”
„If you acted as adults instead of children, we would support you,” Matthaios replied at once. „You chose to marry again and you keep wounding each other. You cannot share space peacefully, so why continue the pain? Divorce and separate.”
The words might have sounded harsh, yet the brother and sister simply wished to live in peace.
