Chapter Seven: Tangled Ties
The sound of his mother's voice was a thread pulling at memories Syan had tried to cut loose. It trembled in the air, fragile and uncertain, nothing like the sharp, lilting tone he'd once known. He could hear her breathing now, quick and shallow, just inside the doorway. His father hadn't moved, his boots still rooted near the bed, but the room felt crowded with their presence—two ghosts who'd chosen the worst moment to stop haunting from a distance.
"Syan," she said again, softer this time, like she was testing the word. "Can we… can we talk?"
He didn't want to talk. He wanted them gone, back to whatever life they'd built without him and Lila. But the words stuck in his throat, tangled up with years of questions he'd never let himself ask. Why did you leave? Did you ever think about us? Do you even care? Instead, he said, "Lila's not here. She's at school."
"We know," his father said, his voice steadying now, regaining some of its old weight. "We waited until she'd be gone. Didn't want to scare her."
Syan's jaw tightened. They'd planned this, then—sneaking in like thieves, avoiding the one person who might've softened the blow. "Scare her?" he said, his tone sharp. "You think showing up out of nowhere won't do that?"
"We didn't know how else to do it," his mother cut in, her words rushed. "We've been trying to figure this out for months, Syan. How to come back. How to face you."
"Four years," he said, cutting her off. "You had four years to figure it out. Why now?"
A shuffle, then the faint creak of the floor as she stepped closer. He could smell her now—something floral, faint under the cold clinging to her coat. "We heard things," she said. "From people in town. That you were still here, alone with Lila. That she's been taking care of you. We didn't know it'd gotten… like this."
"Like what?" he snapped. "Like me being stuck? Like her having to grow up too fast because you couldn't handle it?"
"Syan—" his father started, but his mother spoke over him, her voice breaking.
"We were wrong. We were scared, and we ran. I know that doesn't fix it, but we're here now because we want to try. For both of you."
He wanted to believe her. Some small, buried part of him—the kid who'd once clung to her promises—ached to hear those words and let them mean something. But the rest of him, the part that had listened to Lila cry herself to sleep those first months, the part that had counted every day they didn't come back, wouldn't let it go so easily. "Try what?" he asked, cold and hard. "What do you want?"
A pause, then his father cleared his throat. "We've got a place now. A house, not far from here. Steady jobs. We want to take care of you both—get you help, Syan. Doctors, equipment, whatever you need. And Lila… she shouldn't have to do this alone."
The words landed like stones, heavy and unyielding. Help. Doctors. Equipment. Things he'd dreamed of once, back when hope still flickered. But now? Now it felt like a bribe, a shiny lure to reel them in. And Lila—she was the real prize here, wasn't she? They wanted her back, their little girl, without the burden of him dragging her down.
"She's not alone," he said, his voice low but fierce. "She's got me."
"We know," his mother said quickly. "We're not trying to take her away from you. We just… we want to be a family again. If you'll let us."
A family. The word twisted in his gut, bitter and sharp. They'd stopped being a family the day they walked out, leaving him to rot and Lila to pick up the pieces. He couldn't see their faces, couldn't read the truth in their eyes, but he could hear the strain in their voices—guilt, maybe, or desperation. It wasn't enough.
"I don't trust you," he said finally, each word deliberate. "Not with me. Not with her."
"Syan—" his mother started, but he cut her off.
"Lila decides," he said. "Not you. Not me. She's the one who's kept this going. If she wants you back, I'll deal with it. But if she doesn't, you leave. For good."
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the wind outside. He could feel them watching him, weighing his words. His father shifted, boots scuffing the floor again. "Fair enough," he said gruffly. "We'll talk to her. When she's ready."
"We'll come back tonight," his mother added, her voice trembling but firm. "With Lila here. We'll let her choose."
The door creaked open again, letting in another blast of cold, and then they were gone, their footsteps fading into the snow. Syan sat there, his heart pounding in his useless chest, the weight of their return pressing down on him. He didn't know what Lila would say, didn't know if she'd want the family they'd lost or the one they'd built together, just the two of them.
All he could do was wait, trapped as ever, for her to come home and decide their fate.
Let me know if you'd like Chapter Eight or any tweaks here!