“I can,” Papa said.
I stood, offering my hand. “Then let’s walk.”
Mamma chuckled. “He just walked a few minutes ago. Let him rest.”
“No.” My voice dropped. “I need to see for myself. To know you’re not hiding a wheelchair somewhere.” My eyes swept the room, searching corners like I expected to find one tucked into shadows.
Papa sighed, giving in. “Fine, fine.” He eased his leg down and pushed forward. I reached for him, but he waved me off with a grunt. “I can stand on my own.”
“He’s stubborn,” Mamma muttered.
I stepped back, arms folded, watching him push to his feet. Hewavered, found his balance, then took a step. I let out an exhale. “I’m relieved.”
Papa chuckled, brushing off my worry. “You act like I’m dying. It’s nothing. You worry too much.”
“If you had told me, I wouldn’t be worried.” I quarreled, and Mamma slipped toward the kitchen. I helped Papa sit back on the couch. His exhale was heavier than he wanted me to notice, but I caught it. He was pushing too hard for my sake.
Silence thickened as I also occupied the sofa next to Papa. My eyes shifted to the stranger on the other sofa. “Sorry,” I said finally. “I didn’t greet you.”
He gave a slight shrug, one shoulder lifting and falling. “All good.”
I nodded, though the longer I looked, the more the air bent strangely around him, so I turned away before it lingered.
Papa broke the tension with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, should I stop worrying now that you’re back?”
“He told me everything,” I answered. “That’s why I’m here.”
Papa’s gaze shifted between us before he lifted a hand in a lazy gesture. “This is Alonzo. Alonzo, this is Alessia.”
“Do I know him?” My voice cut in.
“Your mother will explain the rest,” Papa said, and that was enough. Rodion didn’t lie to me. I had a brother.
I stared at Alonzo. His features were sharp, where mine softened. His expression carried the kind of weight that stripped a man of laughter. If he smiled, I hadn’t seen it, and I doubted he bothered trying.
A knot climbed into my throat, but I swallowed it down.
Mamma returned with a glass of juice in her hand. She passed it to me before sitting at my side, her palm settling on my shoulder.
“I meant to tell you about him.”
My fingers stilled around the glass. I didn’t look at her. “Papawas hurt, and no one told me. How am I supposed to believe you would have told me that I have a brother?”
“You knew?” Her voice faltered with surprise.
I lifted the glass and took a sip. The juice was sweet, but it didn’t wash out the bitterness lodged in my mouth. I hadn’t realized how quickly I emptied it until I caught their eyes on me. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Just say it.”
The silence that followed pressed heavier than Mamma’s touch. I let out a sigh and turned toward Alonzo. He looked as uneasy as I felt.
“Listen, Alessia…” Mamma’s voice softened. “I should have told you.”
“Me? Or Papa?” I asked. “I’m twenty-four,” I said, my voice tightening. “So stop circling it and tell me everything.”
Alonzo shifted, his feet screeching against the floor. He cleared his throat. “Should I wait outside?”
Papa and Mamma answered together. “Yes.”
But I shook my head. “No, stay.” My voice held the finality. I swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t be mad.” Mamma reached for me again, but I pulled back, heat flushing beneath my skin. “But this is different, Mamma.” My voice dropped lower. “Is he your son?”