The hospital called on a Tuesday morning.

I was home doing nothing important, moving things from one surface to another the way you do when your hands need something to do but your head isn’t really in it. I picked up on the first ring.

"Mr. Crux. This is Dr. Kade at St. Mercy. I need you to come in."

I was already reaching for my keys.

He met me in the corridor outside her room.

"Her condition has progressed since your last visit," he said. "She’s unconscious now. Her heart function has declined further, and we’re seeing fluid buildup in the lungs."

"What does that mean right now?"

"It means we don’t have the luxury of time anymore. Surgery needs to happen within days, or we risk losing her."

I didn’t ask anything else.

I understood.

I stood there for a while after he left, looking at the closed door to her room and thinking about numbers.

Twenty five thousand.

That was everything I had.

It wasn’t enough.

I drove home and went straight to my desk.

The address was still where I left it years ago, written in an old notebook I never threw away.

72021 Vine Grove, Apt 1, Potter’s Ville.

I stared at it for a long moment.

Then I packed a bag.

The drive took eight hours.

I made a few stops along the way, not because I needed to, but because sitting still with my thoughts for that long felt unbearable. Petrol. Coffee. Something I didn’t taste.

The road stretched on and I kept thinking about what I was going to say when I saw him.

Every version sounded wrong.

I found the place easily.

A quiet street. Small houses. Nothing flashy. Everything lived in.

I parked outside, checked the address again just to be sure, then walked up and knocked.

A woman opened the door.

Early thirties. Calm. Warm.

"Hi," I said. "I’m looking for Nathan. Nathan Crux. Does he live here?"

"Yes, he does," she said. "He isn’t home right now." She looked at me a little more carefully. "And you are?"

"Ethan."

Her eyes widened.

"Ethan... Nathan’s brother?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God." She stepped back immediately. "It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Selene, Nathan’s wife. He’s told me so much about you. Please, come in."

I stepped inside.

The house was simple but well kept. Not decorated for show, just... lived in. Clean surfaces, a few things out of place in a way that felt natural. Family pictures lined the walls.

Nathan and Selene at their wedding. A few random moments. And then a picture of a baby.

I stopped.

"Oh, you have a kid?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "That’s Jonathan. He’s six."

Six.

I didn’t know Nathan had a kid.

What else don’t I know?

She led me to the living room.

"Please sit. Can I get you anything?"

"No, I’m fine."

"When will Nathan be back?"

"He should be back soon. He’s picking Jonathan up from school."

"Okay."

"Make yourself at home," she said before heading off.

I sat there, looking around a house that felt like a version of my brother’s life I was never invited into.

It felt strange.

Not uncomfortable.

Just... unfamiliar.

About twenty minutes later, I heard a car pull in.

The door opened.

"Honey, we’re home."

"Mummy!"

A small voice, excited. A bag dropped somewhere.

Selene came out. Jonathan ran into her. Nathan stepped in behind them, kissed her forehead.

"Welcome back," she said. "How was your day?"

"You know... same old," he said, walking toward the living room.

"Hey, honey, there’s—"

He stopped.

"Ethan."

"Hi, Nathan. Long time no see."

He stared at me for a few seconds.

"Wow... I don’t— I don’t even know what to say. You’re actually here."

"I tried to call you before coming, but your number wasn’t going through."

"Oh... yeah. That was my old number. I don’t use it anymore." He paused. "It’s... it’s nice to see you."

He stepped forward and hugged me.

I let him.

Mostly because Selene was watching, and I didn’t want to make it awkward.

"How are you, little bro? It’s been what, ten years?"

"Eleven years, eight months, fifteen days," I said. "But who’s counting."

He let out a small breath. "Yeah... it’s been a while."

"This is my son, Jonathan," he said.

Jonathan stood close to Selene, half hiding.

"Jonathan, this is your uncle Ethan. Say hi."

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hello," I replied.

Selene took Jonathan upstairs to change, leaving the two of us alone.

The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable.

"Let’s cut to the chase," I said. "I’m not here to get chummy. It’s about Mum."

He sighed. "Ethan, we haven’t seen each other in years. Maybe we should—"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Eth—"

"No." My voice tightened. "You’re the one who left. You abandoned your family. You abandoned me."

"It’s not like that—"

"You broke her heart, Nathan. You broke mine too."

Selene came back in.

"Nathan, can you help me with dinner?"

I stood up and picked up my jacket.

"Maybe I should go. This wasn’t a great idea."

"No," she said quickly. "Please stay."

Nathan stepped in. "Stay. I’ll be happy if you did "

I hesitated.

I dropped the jacket back down.

"Fine."

Dinner was simple. The kind of meal you don’t think about because it just feels normal.

Roast chicken, potatoes, vegetables, bread on the side. A lot of small dishes filling the table in a way that made it feel full.

We sat.

Held hands.

Said grace.

Same words.

Same way.

Like nothing had changed.

Selene kept the conversation going.

She asked about me, my work, if I had a girlfriend.

"No," I said.

She nodded, didn’t push.

I asked how they met.

She smiled and looked at Nathan.

"You tell it."

He sighed lightly. "We met at work. She spilled coffee on me and somehow made it my fault."

"It was your fault," she said.

Jonathan laughed.

It made things easier for a moment.

After dinner, I helped with the dishes.

Then Nathan and I went outside.

He handed me a beer.

I took it.

"What did you want to tell me about Mum?" he asked.

I didn’t waste time.

"She has heart disease. Ischemic cardiomyopathy. She needs surgery. Urgently. Right now she’s unconscious."

He went still.

"The hospital needs eighty thousand before they’ll proceed. Insurance only covers part of it."

He exhaled slowly. "That’s... that’s serious."

"It is."

"Mum wants to see you," I added. "But that’s not why I came. I came because I need your help."

He nodded. "I will. I just... I don’t have much. I work in sales. Mattresses. I’ve got a mortgage. I’m not living the life, Ethan."

"Neither am I," I said. "I’m a graphic designer with a salary that barely holds up. I rely on commissions and I’ve got student loans."

I looked at him.

"But we can’t let her die."

"You might have abandoned her," I added, "but I won’t."

"I didn’t want to," he said quietly. "I love Mum. I love you too."

"Hell of a way to show it."

He swallowed.

"I wanted to come back," he said. "So many times. I thought about it every year."

"So why didn’t you?"

He looked down.

"Because I was ashamed," he said. "I knew I broke her heart. I knew I left you there. I didn’t know what to say... so I didn’t come back. I was a coward."

Silence.

"I tried to reach you," he added. "I found your work. I called. Left messages."

"I got them."

"And you ignored me."

"Because I wanted nothing to do with you," I said. "You left me when I needed you the most. I begged you not to go."

He nodded slowly.

"I know."

I stood up.

"I’m going to get some sleep."

"There’s no hotel nearby," he said. "Stay here tonight. I’ll set up the spare room."

I hesitated.

Then nodded.

I woke up to a knock.

"Ethan?" Selene’s voice. "Breakfast is ready."

"Yeah. I’ll be there."

The table was set.

Pancakes. Fruit. Juice.

Jonathan was already eating.

Nathan sat quietly.

I sat down, ate, didn’t say much.

After breakfast, I picked up my bag.

"I can’t stay long," I said. "I need to get back to Mum."

Nathan nodded. "I understand."

He went inside and came back with an envelope.

"For Mum," he said.

I opened it.

A check.

Thirty thousand dollars.

I closed it and slipped it back in.

"Thanks."

"I’ll come see her," he said. "Soon. I promise."

"Okay."

Selene and Jonathan stood by the door.

Jonathan gave a small wave.

I waved back.

Nathan walked me to the car.

We stood there for a moment.

Nothing left to say that wouldn’t open something else.

I got in.

Started the engine.

In the rearview mirror, he stood there, hands in his pockets, watching as I drove.