— his voice was quiet, but it held such depth that she couldn’t help but flinch. — I’ve been thinking a lot about how to say this. How to thank you. Not for the money, or the job… though for that too. You saved us. That day in the park, you could have walked by, like hundreds of others did. But you stopped. You warmed Alice, you nursed Luna back to health, you gave me back my name.
He turned to her, and in the light of the distant lamps, his eyes looked like dark pools, full of an unbearable warmth.
— I love you.
It was said simply, without drama, like stating the most important fact of his life.
— It’s not gratitude, believe me. It’s something… — he stumbled, searching for words. — I feel you. Your pain that you hide, your strength. You’ve become everything to me. My home, my purpose.
Eleanor slowly turned to face him. Everything inside her screamed. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to cry, to tell him everything: about the tumor, the fear, about how much she didn’t want to leave. But she knew something he didn’t. Something that made this confession unbearably painful and impossible.
— Stop it, Mike, — her voice was dry, almost brittle.
— Why? I can see that you feel it too…
— No! — she cut him off, looking him straight in the eye. — Listen to me very carefully. What you’re feeling… it’s an attraction, a recognition. It’s not what you think it is.
Mike frowned, his hand reaching for her shoulder, but Eleanor stepped back.
— I did some digging after you came to my house. Your last name, the town you were born in, your mother’s name… Mike, the world is much smaller than it seems. My father… he left our family when I was little. He had another life, another woman. He died many years ago, and I was sure I was all alone.
She took a deep breath, feeling her heart pound somewhere in her throat.
— You’re my family, Mike. By blood. We can’t be together the way you want.
Mike froze. His hand remained suspended in mid-air. He stared at her, his face slowly turning into a lifeless mask.
— What are you talking about…? — he whispered. — What blood? Eleanor, that’s crazy! We’re strangers! We met by accident!
— There are no accidents in life, — she gave a bitter smile. — Only fate, which sometimes has a very cruel sense of humor. You’re my brother, Mike. My half-brother, yes. But my brother. That’s why I stopped in that park. That’s why I couldn’t walk past Alice—she’s my niece. I felt it before I ever saw the paperwork.
Mike staggered as if he’d been punched in the chest. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to find words. The world he had just started to rebuild had collapsed for a second time, but this time it buried the very possibility of love under the rubble.
— You’re… my brother, — he repeated, tasting the words like poison. — But how? Why didn’t you say anything?
— I wasn’t sure myself until recently. — Eleanor felt tears welling up and turned away sharply. — And now… now it doesn’t matter. Just know this: you’re not alone. You have a family. And Alice has me.
— But I don’t want a sister! — he suddenly cried out, his voice raw with the despair of a wounded animal. — I need you, Eleanor!
She didn’t answer. Her head exploded with such sharp pain that black spots swam before her eyes. She knew if she stayed there another minute, she would collapse.
— Go, Mike. We both need to process this. Please.
She almost ran to the stairs, not looking back. Mike remained on the roof under the cold starlight, alone with a truth that was more terrifying than any loneliness. Neither of them slept that night. The silence in their rooms was as heavy as a tombstone. And outside, the sea continued its eternal, indifferent rhythm, washing away the footprints in the sand—the footprints of their brief, impossible happiness.
The morning after the revelation was as heavy as wet sand. An invisible but icy wall had risen between Eleanor and Mike. He walked through the hotel like a ghost, and Alice watched the adults with frightened eyes, not understanding where their laughter had gone. Eleanor felt the tumor in her head celebrating its victory. Her vision was doubling more often, and the fingers of her left hand had almost stopped obeying her.
She had to do it. Right now, while she could still stand. Skydiving wasn’t a whim; it was her final manifesto, her way of shouting in the face of death, “I’m still here. I decide when I fall.”
— You’re out of your mind! — Mike caught her at the airfield’s registration desk. — Look at yourself, you can barely stand!
Eleanor turned. She wore sunglasses so he couldn’t see her clouded gaze.
— I’m going, Mike. With or without you. This is my flight.
— Then I’m jumping too, — he said flatly. — I’m not leaving you up there alone.
The small plane whined as it climbed over the shimmering surface of the sea. The cabin smelled of jet fuel and adrenaline. Eleanor sat with her head against the cold fuselage, watching the earth below turn into a colorful map. Next to her, a professional instructor, Adam, checked the carabiners of their tandem harness. His movements were precise, practiced, routine…
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