Morning light came through the blinds in white lines. Everywhere smelled like antiseptic. Monitors beeped slowly, it almost sounded like someone was breathing.
Dmitri lay in the bed exactly the way he had for days. Same position. Same stillness. Tubes running from his arms. Wires across his chest. Oxygen feeding quietly into his lungs.
I sat beside him with my violin resting across my lap. I brought it yesterday thinking it might help. Thinking maybe if he heard it, something in his brain would wake up.
But now that I was here, I couldn't do it. The room felt too quiet. As if it were waiting for me to play.
I traced my finger slowly along the edge of the violin's body.
"I keep thinking if I play, you'll wake up," I said quietly. My voice sounded strange in the empty room.
"Like in the movies or something."
I looked at him. Still nothing.
"That's stupid, right?"
Silence. The machines continued their steady rhythm. I shifted in the chair and leaned forward slightly.
"Adrien keeps asking about you," I said. "He won't admit it, but he does."
My fingers tapped the violin absent-mindedly.
"He tries to sound casual about it. Like he's just checking the facts. But I know what he's doing."
I glanced at Dmitri's face. His expression hadn't changed. It was strange seeing him like this. Quiet. Peaceful. Still. Dmitri had never been any of those things while awake.
"The doctors say your vitals are stable," I continued. "That's good."
I paused.
"That's supposed to be good."
My throat tightened. I stared at his hand resting on the blanket.
For a few seconds, I just looked at it. Then slowly, I reached out and took it. His skin was warm. I expected it to feel cold. But it didn't.
I held his hand in mine and stared down at it.
"I still blame you for this, by the way," I muttered. "You didn't have to jump in front of me like that."
My voice dropped to a whisper.
"You could've just pushed me and moved."
I squeezed his hand. "You're dramatic. Always dramatic."
A knock sounded behind me. I looked up as a nurse stepped inside.
"Visiting hours are ending soon," she said gently.
I nodded.
"I know."
She gave me a sympathetic smile.
"You can come back tonight."
I let go of Dmitri's hand slowly.
"Yeah," I said. "I will."
The hospital cafeteria smelled like burnt coffee and something that had probably been soup earlier in the day.
Adrien and I sat at a plastic table. Neither of us had touched our food. He was staring down at the tray like it had personally offended him.
After a few minutes, he sighed.
"So," he said.
I looked up.
"So."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"This is weird."
"What part?"
Adrien glanced at me.
"Having a sister."
I snorted quietly.
"You say that like it's contagious."
"I'm serious."
He leaned back in the chair.
"I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"This." He gestured between us.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You're doing fine."
Adrien frowned.
"I mean the whole sibling thing."
He hesitated.
"Do I call you Isabelle or Althea?"
"Isabelle."
"That was fast."
"I've been Isabelle my entire life."
Adrien nodded thoughtfully.
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because I can't pronounce Althea."
I rolled my eyes.
"You absolutely can."
"Yeah, but I won't."
A small smile tugged at my mouth despite everything. Adrien leaned forward slightly.
"I've been thinking about it though."
"About what?"
"This."
He tapped the table.
"Having family."
I watched him carefully. Adrien wasn't someone who talked about things like this.
"Does it bother you?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"I don't know yet."
That sounded honest.
"I guess it's just strange," he said. "Realizing I wasn't alone all those years."
My chest tightened a little.
"Yeah," I said softly.
He looked up.
"We'll figure it out."
"Probably."
Adrien nodded.
"Probably."
His phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced down at it.
Then his expression changed.
"What?" I asked.
He stared at the screen for a second longer before locking it.
"Nothing," he said. Which meant it was definitely something.
After lunch at the hospital, I suggested we go see Arthur. Adrien refused at first, but after much persuasion, he finally agreed.
He stayed in the car.
"I'll wait here," he said.
"You don't want to come in?"
"No."
I didn't push. So I stepped out and walked up the short stone path alone. The door opened before I could knock.
He looked older than the last time I saw him. Maybe it was because I was finally seeing him in broad daylight.
His hair had more gray than black. His posture was slightly bent. The cane rested against the wall beside him. For a second we just looked at each other.
Then he offered a smile and stepped aside.
"You came back."
I walked inside.
"I have questions."
"I know."
The house smelled faintly like medicine and old wood. Arthur lowered himself slowly into a chair across from me.
I looked him over more closely. The shape of his jaw. The line of his nose. The familiar features I had seen in a mirror my entire life. It was unsettling.
"Did you ever try to find us?" I asked.
Arthur didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Genevieve stopped me."
I frowned.
"She thought it was safer."
"And you believed her?"
Arthur looked down at his hands.
"At the time… yes."
Silence settled between us.
"Did you know about the orphanage?" I asked.
"No. Not until years later."
My fingers tightened slightly on the arm of the chair.
"And by then?"
"By then I was told staying away was the only way to keep you alive."
I stared at him.
"Why didn't you fight harder?"
Arthur didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"Because I was broken. My head injury was worse than anyone told you," he continued. "I couldn't remember my own name for months."
I felt something shift uncomfortably in my chest.
"By the time my memory came back… the guilt had already taken root."
He looked at me again.
"And the fear."
Arthur leaned back slowly.
"You don't have to forgive me."
"I wasn't planning to."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"Fair enough. I see he's still refusing to see me." He nodded toward the car parked by the window.
Then I asked quietly,
"What did you think about all those years?"
Arthur didn't hesitate this time.
"You… and him. Both of you. Every day."
For the rest of the evening, we talked about the past. We talked mostly about Elena… my mother. I could tell how much he had loved and cared for her. His voice grew gentler whenever he spoke of her. At one point, he broke down, blaming himself for her death.
Adrien cut our conversation short. I hate to admit it, but I felt a little sad as I left. I promised I would visit again. I wished Adrien would give him a chance, too.
I tried to talk to him about it on the drive back to the hospital, but I couldn't find the right words.
When I got to the hospital, the nurses at the front desk had gotten used to my visits. They smiled at me as I made my way to his room.
My hand rested lightly over his.
"I met my father today," I said softly.
"That was weird. He's not what I expected."
The monitor beeped steadily.
"And Adrien's my brother. Can you believe that?" I shook my head slightly.
"You'd probably make a joke about that. I've had a brother this whole time and somehow neither of us—oh."
I sank back in the chair, rubbing my temple.
"I just… I just remembered I've told you this before."
The room stayed quiet.
"I guess you were right about Julien, by the way," I added. "He left."
I stared at Dmitri's face.
"He said to tell you that you were right."
I paused.
"I don't actually know what you were right about. But apparently you were."
Another quiet moment passed.
"I don't know what happens next," I admitted.
"Everything feels… unfinished."
My eyelids felt heavy.
"I guess that's normal after a war."
I lay my head against the edge of his bed, letting out a quiet sigh. Still holding his hand. Just for a moment. Just to rest. My eyes slowly drifted closed.
The monitors continued their steady rhythm in the dark room. And somewhere between those quiet mechanical sounds, Dmitri's fingers twitched.
Just slightly. Just enough to move against my hand.