Tulips and Lilies

Chapter 2

Nova's POV

I don’t remember the exact day. Just that the sun was soft, the way it is before summer begins, and the path we walked was lined with old trees that looked like they'd been around longer than any of us.

I was three—too small to understand what grown-ups talked about, but old enough to remember the way moments felt.

My father was holding my hand, swinging it lightly as we walked. Mama was on my other side, smiling at something silly I’d said. Then he stopped suddenly, eyes lighting up in recognition.

“William?” he called.

The man who turned around looked younger than my father but had the same spark in his eyes. He laughed, loud and happy. “Henry! My God!”

They hugged like old friends, clapping each other’s backs like they hadn’t seen each other in years—which, I suppose, they hadn’t. Mama smiled politely, and I stood there, my tiny hand in Papa’s, quietly watching.

That’s when I saw them.

Two boys stood behind the man my father had just hugged. They were identical—same brown eyes, same black hair, same serious expressions. But somehow, I knew they weren’t the same. Not really.

The one on the left was standing straight, observing everything quietly, like he was already older than his age. The other… the other one was bouncing slightly on his heels, clearly wanting to talk or do something louder.

They didn’t speak. Neither did I. We just stared at each other.

It was an odd silence, stretched over ten whole minutes. Our fathers chatted like old college boys reliving old tales, but we stood there in our own little bubble, saying nothing.

And then, as Papa and Mama finally said their goodbyes, the quiet one stepped forward. He didn’t say a word.

He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly warm white chocolate bar.

He handed it to me.

And then he walked away.

No name. No smile. Just the gift and his back as he disappeared down the path.

Almost a year later, I saw him again. Both of them.

I was in the park near our home, trying to balance on one of those bouncy animals with springs underneath, when I saw the twins near the slide. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I walked right up to them.

They noticed me at the same time. The bouncy one—who I now know is Victor—grinned like we were old friends.

“Hey! I saw you before!” he said loudly, pointing. “You had two piggy tails and a red dress. Now you have blue. That’s cool!”

“I remember you,” I said quietly. “You gave me chocolate.”

Vincent blinked. “Yeah.”

That was all. Just that.

“I’m Nova,” I said, deciding to introduce myself.

“I’m Victor!” the louder twin shouted. “I’m five and I have eight toy cars. No—nine. No wait, it’s ten now, because my uncle gave me a blue one yesterday! It has flames on the side. Vincent says it looks fake but I think it’s awesome!”

“I’m Vincent,” the quiet one added, as if to balance out his brother’s noise.

I nodded. “You two are brothers?”

“Yeah!” Victor said proudly. “We’re not magic or anything, but we were born at the same time and now we look the same. But I talk more.”

Vincent gave him a look. “A lot more.”

Victor laughed. “Vincent doesn’t like talking unless he has to. But he’s smart. He always finishes puzzles faster than me, even though I try really hard.”

I looked at them both again. Victor was all brightness and movement and energy. Vincent was still, like a calm pond next to a rushing river. And somehow, both felt like something I wanted to keep.

That afternoon in the park didn’t end after names were exchanged. Something about it stayed warm in my memory—like sun-drenched skin or the leftover taste of candy.

Victor kept running in circles around the jungle gym, talking so fast I barely understood half of what he said. He showed me a plastic dinosaur he’d hidden in his pocket and made roaring sounds loud enough for the pigeons to scatter. Then he insisted we play “superhero-car-chase,” even though I didn’t know the rules.

Vincent, on the other hand, just sat on one of the swings, gently rocking back and forth.

“You don’t like games?” I asked, walking up to him.

“I do,” he said, “but not this one. Victor always wins.”

Victor shouted from the other side of the park, “Because I’m awesome!”

I giggled. “Why don’t you make up a game then?”

Vincent looked at me like I’d asked something important. Then he shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Even then, he had that way of saying things — few words, soft tone, but it always made you feel like he’d really heard you. Not just your words, but what you meant.

Victor came crashing toward us, twigs in his hair and dirt on his shirt. “Let’s make a team!” he yelled. “We’ll call ourselves the V-Team. Because our names start with V!”

“I’m N,” I reminded him.

Victor looked betrayed. “Nova, can’t you just pretend?”

I laughed. “Okay. I’m in the V-Team.”

Vincent muttered, “We sound like a vacuum cleaner.And we can be an N-team rather than a V-team; N is better than V."

I was so surprised by his response. It made me feel special. Vincent made me feel special.

It was clear from his face that Victor didn't liked that but anyway he agreed to that because Vincent was burning him with his eyes.

We sat on the grass soon after, the three of us, in a tiny triangle under the big tree near the slide. Victor kept talking—about cartoons, cookies, dinosaurs, and how he wanted to become a pilot. He even offered me one of his “treasures”—a shiny blue button he claimed he found in a spaceship. I didn’t believe him, but I accepted it anyway.

“What do you want to be?” I asked Vincent.

He blinked at the question, then looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Something quiet, maybe.”

It was such a Vincent thing to say. Even at five, he wanted peace more than excitement.

When the sun started dipping behind the trees and our mothers called us home, Victor begged for “five more minutes.” Vincent didn’t argue. He simply stood up, brushed the grass off his pants, and offered me a hand.

That was the first time he touched me. A simple gesture — but it stayed.

On our walk home, I asked Mama if we could invite the twins over sometime.

“They seem like nice boys,” she said. “You like them?”

I thought for a second. “Victor’s like a rocket.”

“And the other?”

I smiled softly. “Vincent’s the sky.”

She smiled and patted my head, not realizing that the boys I’d met weren’t just new friends.

They were the beginning of everything.

As my memory faded, I blink back into the hospital room.

The nurse, who looked like she’d been listening with her whole heart, leaned back in her chair with a smile. She was probably in her late fifties, hair streaked with grey, eyes kind and worn with time.

“That’s such a gentle memory,” she said. “And you were only three?”

I nodded. “I didn’t even know his name then.”

She smiled again, this time a little deeper. “It’s funny how some people just… stay. Like they leave fingerprints on your memories.”

“Vincent never really left,” I said, resting my head against the pillow. “Even when we went to different schools, even when life changed a hundred times… he was always somewhere in the picture. Him and Victor both.”

The nurse leaned forward slightly. “And now he’s been sitting outside that hallway for two days straight, only going home because you made him.”

I looked away, a small ache pressing against my ribs. “Yeah… he can be stubborn like that.”

“But sweet,” she added. “I see a lot of visitors in this hospital, child. Most come out of obligation. Guilt, even. But that boy? He looked like he was carrying the weight of your pain on his shoulders.”

Her words settled in my chest.

“I didn’t want him to see me like this,” I whispered. “Not here. Not in a hospital bed, covered in wires and smelling like antiseptic.”

“But he came anyway.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “He always does.”

There was a silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… thoughtful.

The nurse eventually broke it with a gentle question, “And Victor? You mentioned both boys—are they still close to you?”

I hesitated, lips parting but no words coming.

“…Not like before,” I said finally.

The nurse didn’t push further. Instead, she reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and offered it to me.

“You should rest now, Nova. You’ve already traveled far today, even without moving.”

I nodded, clutching the blanket a little tighter around me.

But before the nurse turned away, I looked at her once more. “Do you believe,” I asked slowly, “that some people are meant to stay in your life, even if everything else falls apart?”

She paused at the doorway, hand resting gently on the frame.

“I believe,” she said with a warm smile, “that some hearts find their way back to each other—over and over again.”

Then she left, and I closed my eyes…

---

---