They worked side by side until afternoon faded into evening. Before leaving, they entrusted the company to Secretary Jim, asking him to watch over things while they were gone.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, a wash of golden light spilled across the sky. Rada stepped out of the cab and stopped, transfixed, his eyes fixed on the glowing clouds as though the world had momentarily forgotten him. Behind him, Egemed opened the trunk and lifted out his brother's suitcase.
"Brother… the—" Egemed began, then fell silent.
Rada hadn't blinked. He stood there, unmoving, as if the sky held something he had been searching for all along. Egemed sighed quietly, finished unloading the luggage on his own, and smiled at the sight of his brother.
"Let's go," he said, nudging him gently.
"Yeah… let's go," Rada replied, finally breaking away and taking the luggage.
At the gate, Rada stopped again.
His chest tightened. The familiar house loomed before him, heavy with memories and regrets. What if Mother scolds me? he wondered. What if she doesn't want me here anymore?
"Don't worry," Egemed said, slipping his hand into Rada's. "I'm here with you."
Those words steadied him. Together, they crossed the lawn.
The door clicked softly as they entered. Hearing the sound, their mother came out to see who had arrived—and froze.
Rada stood near the doorway, stiff and uncertain, like a guest who had wandered into the wrong home. His eyes wouldn't meet hers.
Egemed walked ahead and leaned close to their mother.
"Mother," he whispered, "Brother will be staying home again."
"What do you mean?" she whispered back, her voice trembling.
Rada watched them, confusion twisting in his stomach.
"He's back to take care of you," Egemed said softly. "He wanted to say sorr—"
He didn't finish.
Their mother rushed forward and pulled Rada into her arms, holding him as if she were afraid he might disappear again. Egemed stopped speaking and smiled to himself.
"I told you," he murmured.
"I'm so… sorry, Mother," Rada said, his voice breaking as tears slid down his face.
"I know," she cried, pressing her cheek against his. "I've been waiting for this moment."
Egemed leaned against the wall, watching the scene with quiet relief. Then he called out, "Heryl? Where are you?"
A moment later, Heryl appeared, a book tucked under his arm. He stopped short at the sight of his family gathered together—parents and brothers reunited.
Rada stepped forward with a smile. "Heryl… you've grown so much."
He hugged him.
Still unsure, Heryl slipped away and sat beside Egemed. "What happened?" he whispered.
"Nothing," Egemed said, smiling. "Brother's just home."
"Wow," Heryl breathed. "I'll make some tea." He headed to the kitchen.
The house slowly filled with voices again. Their mother asked Rada question after question—about his life, his health, his days away from home. Though he was grown, her concern wrapped around him like it always had. It made his heart ache in a way that was both painful and comforting.
They shared tea, laughter spilling easily into the room, warmth settling into every corner.
Later, Egemed helped Rada unpack. Clothes were folded with care, memories tucked away neatly with them.
"Egemed?" Rada said.
"Yes?" He looked up.
"I'm happy… to be home again."
"So am I," Egemed replied, closing the wardrobe. After a pause, he asked, "Do you love us?"
Rada hesitated. "Yes… I did," he said quietly. Guilt pressed against his chest—Did I really love them, when I never showed it?
"We love you too," Egemed said gently. "You saw how much Mother loves you, didn't you?"
"I did."
"So don't worry," Egemed said with a soft chuckle. "If no one else loves you, I will. But the truth is—everyone does."
Rada couldn't find words.
"I promise I'll be better," he said at last. "I'll be a good brother."
"You don't need to promise," Egemed said, shaking his head. "Just do what feels right."
"Why?"
"Because promises," Egemed said slowly, "are like a gun pointed at your own head."
Rada blinked. "What?"
Egemed lifted his hand, shaping it into a pretend gun. "See? The trigger."
Rada nodded, uncertain.
"When a promise breaks," Egemed continued, "it's like pulling the trigger. You hurt yourself first—haunted by what you couldn't keep."
"So… no promises?"
"For me," Egemed said, "actions are safer than words."
Rada laughed softly. "You're right."
He stepped forward and hugged him. "Is this enough, then—without saying 'I love you'?"
Egemed laughed openly. "Yeah. Much better."
When everything was settled, Egemed turned to leave.
"Egemed," Rada called.
"Yes?"
"Are you… okay?"
Egemed froze. "I am. Why?"
"The gun," Rada said gently. "If something's weighing on you… you can tell me."
Egemed stood there, fingers turning the doorknob.
"Is it about your friend?" Rada asked. "What was his name again?"
Egemed's eyes widened. "No… nothing."
He stepped out quietly. "Je… Jerelr," he muttered, his voice rough.
Rada noticed—but didn't press.
That night, the family shared dinner together. The scent of familiar dishes filled the house, like echoes of old, golden days when they had eaten together every evening.
Later, they slept.
Rada awoke once during the night and checked on Egemed. Finding him asleep, he gently pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
He smiled to himself.
This is love, isn't it?
If it weren't for you, I would have stayed in the shadows forever.
With that thought, he returned to bed—deciding that tomorrow, the questions won't wait anymore.