Daniel asked unexpectedly.
“What?” Michael was surprised.
“You know, a portrait. You’re an artist. I want to have a drawing by you.”
Michael paused for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay. Bring me a sketchbook and pencils tomorrow.”
The next day, Daniel brought everything his brother had asked for. And Michael began to draw. He worked slowly, with concentration, and Daniel posed patiently, trying not to move. They barely spoke while he worked, but the silence was more eloquent than any words. They were studying each other. Michael, through the lines and shadows that formed on the paper. Daniel, through his brother’s focused, attentive gaze.
When the portrait was finished, Michael handed it to Daniel. It was more than just a drawing. The paper depicted not the self-assured guy Daniel thought he was, but a young man with a thoughtful, almost vulnerable look, in which a hidden pain could be glimpsed.
“Is… is that me?” Daniel asked in disbelief.
“That’s how I see you,” Michael answered quietly.
Daniel stared at the portrait for a long time, then looked up at his brother.
“Thank you,” he said. “No one has ever seen me like this.”
That evening, back at the hotel, Daniel showed the portrait to his grandfather. George examined it for a long time and then sighed heavily.
“He sees deeper than we do,” he said. “He sees the soul. Just like his mother. Anna could do that too.” He paused, then said decisively, “Tomorrow, I’m talking to Wallace. It’s time to end this war.”
The meeting took place in a small, empty cafe on the hospital’s ground floor. Peter and George sat opposite each other at a small table.
“I’m not going to press charges, Dr. Wallace,” George began without preamble.
Peter looked up at him, surprised.
“Why?”
“Because it won’t change anything,” the old man replied. “It won’t give us back eighteen years. It will only bring more pain. Especially to Michael. And from what I understand, he can’t handle another shock.”
“Thank you,” Peter said simply.
“Don’t thank me,” George cut him off. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for them. For my grandsons. I’ve seen how they look at each other. They need time to become brothers. And a trial, scandals, prison—all of that would only get in the way.” He took a sip of his cold coffee. “But there is one condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“Michael must decide for himself who he wants to be with. And how he wants to live. We won’t pressure him. Not me, not you. He’s a legal adult. It will be his choice. Do you agree?”
Peter felt a lump form in his throat. Giving the choice to Michael himself—that was the most terrifying thing. What if he didn’t choose him? What if he decided to leave with his new, real family? Could he, Peter, survive that? He looked into the old colonel’s stern eyes and saw not only hardness but also a sense of justice.
“I agree,” he said.
“Good,” George nodded. “Then I have something else to discuss with you. As one doctor to another.” He pulled some papers from a folder he had brought with him. “These are from a clinic in Germany. The latest research in cardiac surgery. I’ve made some inquiries. There’s a new, experimental procedure. An operation that could fully repair Michael’s heart. Give him a chance at a full, long life. Without limitations.”
Peter took the documents. His hands trembled as he began to read them.
A new, revolutionary technique. The risk was enormous. But the chance… The chance was real. “This must cost a fortune,” he whispered, seeing the clinic’s estimate.
“Money is not the issue,” George said. “The problem is something else. The surgery must be performed by the best specialist in the field, a Professor Schneider. And he only takes cases he considers promising. We need to convince him. And for that, we’ll need Michael’s complete medical history. And your reports. As the doctor who has treated him all these years.”
Peter looked up at him. He understood. This old man wasn’t just offering a truce. He was offering a partnership. He was offering him the chance to be a doctor again. To fight for Michael’s life again. But this time—together.
“I’ll prepare all the documents,” he said.
At that moment, Daniel, who had approached their table, interrupted their conversation.
“Michael wants to see you,” he said, addressing Peter. “Both of you.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat. He dreaded this conversation more than anything. In this very moment, his fate would be decided.
Michael’s room was flooded with bright April sunlight. He was sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows. He was still pale, but his gaze had regained its former clarity and purpose. Daniel sat on a chair next to the bed. Seeing Peter and George enter, he stood up to give them space.
“Please, sit,” Michael said quietly, gesturing to the chairs.
His voice was even, almost calm, and this calm firmness frightened Peter more than the previous day’s hysteria.
Peter and George sat down. A tense silence filled the room. Everyone was waiting for Michael to speak.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, looking at his hands resting on the blanket. “All night. Trying to make sense of it all.” He looked up, first at his grandfather, then at Peter. “I understand that I have another family now. A real one.”
He paused, and Peter’s heart ached.
“I’m grateful to you,” he nodded to George and Daniel, “for finding me. I’m glad I have a brother. I always wanted a brother.”
Daniel, standing by the window, smiled shyly.
“But…”
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