Kornél shifted restlessly in his chair. This meeting room always had a bad effect on him. Too many decisions had been made here already, too many lives had turned on a single sentence, a signature, a moment of looking away. For better and for worse alike. Now all he hoped for was that nothing unexpected would come in—nothing that had to be “fixed immediately,” nothing that could be dumped on him.

 

At their company, anything could happen. His boss knew no private life, only deadlines. But Kornél had promised Icus that they would leave today. Even if heaven and earth collided.

 

They had rented that small wooden cabin a month and a half earlier. They talked about it every evening. Icus imagined it, Kornél nodded along. With Icus, that was how things worked: if she planned something, it had to work. If it didn’t, there would be trouble. Kornél didn’t dare think about what kind of trouble that might be.

 

Just let this meeting end already, the thought crossed his mind. After that, he would have Aranka deny his existence. If they looked for him, he wasn’t there. He didn’t exist.

 

But his boss sat across from him, looking at him, talking, and for the moment there was no escape.

 

Meanwhile, Icus was packing Vivienn’s toys into a small suitcase. The little girl was four years old—already walking, talking, asking questions—but still dependent on her mother in everything that mattered. A plush bunny, a wooden block, a small rag doll—each had its place, each had meaning. Icus packed carefully for a reason. Sport, basketball, had taught her how. Years of fitting two sets of jerseys, two pairs of shoes, socks, bandages, knee braces, tracksuits and towels into one sports bag. She knew what went where, what stayed on top, what had to be reached quickly. Order wasn’t about aesthetics. It was about function and safety.

 

Her phone rang.

 

“Mom… I already told you, we’re halfway there,” she said patiently. “Don’t worry about us. Yes, we’ve thought of everything. Yes, that too. No, there won’t be any internet connection. We deliberately chose a place where Kornél can’t be constantly disturbed.”

 

She listened to the anxious voice on the other end.

 

“This is rest. Recharging. Sure, I’d enjoy chatting, sending photos, but Kornél insists on Stone Age conditions. He says it’ll be good for us.”

 

She smiled for a moment.

 

“Yes, we have bandages, medicine too. There’s insect bite cream, yes, that as well. I’ll go now. I love you too.”

 

She ended the call.

 

Parents can treat you like a child forever, she thought. Then she paused. But I’m a mother now too. I’ll probably be just like this. Or even worse.

 

Vivienn looked up at her.

 

“Mom, is my bunny coming too?”

 

“Of course,” she said. “The bunny always comes.”

 

Kornél finally stepped out of the meeting room and exhaled.

 

So far, so good.

 

“Aranka,” he said to his secretary, “don’t put any calls through. I have very important, deadline-driven work.”

 

These two hours were survivable, he thought. Icus came to mind. The six years they’d spent together. A good decision—he didn’t regret a single minute. He had searched for the right one for a long time, almost given up. Then it happened.

 

They met at a gym. Icus played basketball, trained there. She had been a national team player, with plenty of fans. Kornél attended every game, blending in with the crowd, enjoying how people analyzed his woman. They praised her, criticized her, argued about her—without knowing who he was.

 

He was proud.

 

After a serious knee injury, Icus became a coach. She completed the necessary training. She still took care of herself, still radiated strength. Kornél was still completely in love with her.

 

And Vivienn… she was everything.

 

They chose this Swiss village because it was far from everything. No phone calls, no emails, no beeping. They explicitly asked the travel agency to make sure of that.

 

At Zurich airport, the agency’s representative was waiting with a comfortable SUV. After three hours of driving, they arrived. Vivienn handled the journey better than usual—flying, then such a long drive. Icus was immensely proud of her.

 

The house wasn’t postcard-pretty. It was real—wood, silence, air. A true mountain hideaway from the outside. Inside, ultra-modern equipment: kitchen, bathroom, a marble fireplace in the living room. Swiss engineering throughout. They would need it; mid-autumn evenings already required heating.

 

Vivienn’s room was directly next to the parents’ bedroom. Icus would have gladly let her sleep between them more often, but Kornél was unyielding.

 

“She needs to sleep in her own bed. That’s how she becomes independent. Sleeping together isn’t healthy.”

 

On mornings when they stayed home together, Icus loved Vivienn’s warmth beside her in bed. That was their secret, and it was just right that way.

 

Days passed. Walks, climbing, running around, creative games, and lots of laughter. Vivienn blossomed. The fresh air and constant movement clearly did her good. Tough little girl.

 

On the fourth day, over breakfast, Kornél mentioned that the village two hours away was having market day.

 

“What if I go down, Icus?” he asked. “I can keep a good pace and be back in two hours. I won’t wander. Straight to the point.”

 

“Me? Scared?” Icus laughed. “You still don’t know who your partner is. Go. Bring honey, fruit—whatever you find.”

 

“I’ll hurry. Lie back down after breakfast.”

 

Icus fell asleep again. She woke from a strange dream and looked at the clock.

 

Eleven.

 

“Vivienn?” she called softly.

 

Nothing.

 

She ran to the child’s room. Vivienn was asleep—too deeply. When Icus touched her forehead, she screamed. Burning hot. The thermometer showed 40.5°C.

 

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She panicked.

 

Medicine. Too slow. She knew this required immediate action.

 

Grandma. What did Grandma say? I didn’t listen. Old-fashioned. Cold water—but how cold?

 

Water was already running. Too cold. She stopped. This isn’t right. She remembered summer plunges and sudden heart attacks.

 

Then it hit her. We have internet.

 

She opened the laptop and typed. Symptoms. Age. Temperature. The answer came quickly.

 

Gradual cooling. Never sudden.

 

She cried out.

 

Of course. I would have put her in ice-cold water. I could have killed her.

 

She shut off the tap, ran warm water, mixed it by hand. She wasn’t following AI. She was following Grandma.

 

Compared to forty degrees, even thirty-five is cold. Gradual change is everything.

 

An hour later, Vivienn came around. Her gaze cleared. She was over the worst.

 

When Kornél returned, he knew immediately something serious had happened.

 

“There was a fever crisis,” Icus said calmly. “Call Alexander. We’re going to a clinic.”

 

The diagnosis was an aggressive viral infection. Medication, rest, mountain air. The doctor reassured them.

 

“You handled this very well. Many don’t know what to do.”

 

“My grandmother taught me,” Icus said.

 

On the drive back, Kornél stared out the window, holding Vivienn’s hand.

 

At the house, he stood before Icus with tears in his eyes.

 

“I should have been here. I left you alone for nothing. Forgive me.”

 

“You didn’t fail,” Icus said. “That’s how it happened. Let’s move on. We were lucky. Grandma was with us. Grandma knew everything.”

 

The greatest luck of all is that someone preserved all that grandmotherly knowledge.

 

And made it accessible.