— So that’s it. You really chose her over us.
— I have not chosen anyone in front of anyone.
— Chosen.
Todor stood up.
— Mihaile, your mother does not owe you an inheritance.
— Don’t talk about my mother.
— Then she does not talk about her daughter as a thing.
Mikhail turned to him.
— You come out of nowhere in fifty years and decide that you will teach us a family?
Todor did not flinch.
— No. I know what it’s like to be late for a family. That’s why I don’t want to see how you lose it the same way.
Mikhail left.
Then I thought he might never come back.
But sometimes people need to hit the bottom of their own pride before they see what they have lost.
A year later, on Emilia’s first birthday, he came.
He was standing in front of the door with a little cake in his hand.
— I didn’t know what to buy — said.
— The cake is a good start.
He smiled awkwardly.
Enter.
Emilia was already walking, holding on to the furniture. He saw him and laughed.
Mikhail was standing still.
Then he squatted.
She reached out to him.
He took it.
And for the first time I saw my son not as an angry man who is afraid to lose money.
And like a brother.
As a person who may have finally realized that love is not diminished when you share it.
Todor died when Emilia was three years old.
His heart just can’t stand it.
He was calm at the end.
He held my hand in the hospital room.
Emilia slept in Sylvia’s arms, and Mikhail was standing by the window.
Todor looked at our daughter.
After me.
— See — whispered. — It is proof that one never knows when life will give him another opportunity.
— I know.
— Promise me you won’t be afraid.
My tears flowed on my face.
— I promise.
He smiled.
Then close your eyes.
After the funeral, we returned home.
It was quiet in the house.
But not lonely.
Emilia was running down the hall with a small plush bear. Sylvia was making tea. Mikhail repaired the broken handle of a cupboard without anyone asking.
I watched them.
My children.
The big and the little ones.
My family was not perfect.
