She never thought she’d see her brother again, not after two decades of silence. It was an ordinary Saturday when the knock at the door sent a jolt through Lily’s heart. She opened it to find herself face-to-face with Ethan, the brother who had left when she was just a girl.
Their mother had fallen ill, and Ethan, only eighteen at the time, had fled, unable to bear the burden of watching the illness consume her. Lily, twelve then, had watched him walk out with a mix of anger and sorrow. She had held onto that anger, letting it fester over years.
Now, he stood on her doorstep, a man she barely recognized. The years had sculpted reasons into his face she could not yet comprehend.
“Lily,” he breathed, eyes searching hers, as if seeking some semblance of the little sister he had left behind.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was sharp, defensive.
“I needed to see you. To explain,” he said, holding his hands out, beseeching.
The silence that followed was thick, an uncomfortable blanket that neither of them knew how to lift. She took a step back, inviting him in with a nod, though her heart was pounding with a mix of anger and an unfamiliar hope.
Inside, the small kitchen where their mother used to make their meals had changed little. But the space seemed to shrink, pressing them together in a way that demanded honesty.
“Why now?” Lily’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of twenty years of questions.
“I was scared,” Ethan admitted, pain lacing his words. “Seeing Mom… like that. I didn’t know how to handle it, and leaving seemed easier.”
“Easy for you. You left me here to handle it alone!” The accusation hung in the air, a truth known but unspoken until now.
“I know, and I’ve regretted it every day.” Ethan dropped his gaze. “I didn’t know how to come back… how to face you after everything.”
The hurt in his voice mirrored her own, surprising Lily. She had imagined this conversation countless times, but hearing his regret made it real, human.
“And now?” she asked, her voice softer, less sure.
“Now, I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.” Ethan’s eyes met hers again, earnest and pleading.
Lily looked away, her gaze falling on a photograph of them as children, smiling and carefree. It was a reminder of what had been lost, but also what might still be reclaimed.
“I don’t know if I can just forgive you,” she said honestly.
“I don’t expect you to, not right away. But maybe… we can start with getting to know each other again?”
The moment stretched between them, fragile yet promising. She nodded slowly, a tentative acceptance of his olive branch.
“Okay,” she said, and the word seemed to echo in the small kitchen, a soft acknowledgment of hope.
As they sat down at the table, the distance between them felt a little less vast. It was a beginning, uncertain yet full of potential.