A day after I woke up, my dearest father decided to visit me at the hospital. He sat down on one of the chairs beside me, head bowed as if he were weighing whether he deserved to be here at all. His shoulders looked heavier than I remembered, his hair more silver than black. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence pressed in, thick with years of things left unsaid. Ethan lingered by the door, his presence grounding, solid. Then, without a word, he gave a small nod and stepped outside, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving the room to me and my father. I watched my father inhale deeply . "I'm glad you're alright," finally said, raising his gaze to meet mine. "I'm so sorry Alexander, this is all my fault." His voice cracked a bit. "Yes it is." I replied simply. The words surprised even me, but I didn’t take them back. I wouldn’t soften the truth for his comfort anymore. "I'm sorry about everything. About my brother, about me shaping you to be like me." He paused
آخر تحديث : 2026-01-03 اقرأ المزيد