Mother

Chapter 16

Teodoro  hadn't been himself lately, not that he ever spoke,  but the silence between us felt heavier. I used to be the one he'd come to, even if it was just to sit in the same room. Now, I couldn't even tell what he was thinking anymore. And Dad, who'd barely been around his whole life, suddenly taking him to therapy? It didn't sit right with me.

I walked down the hall to my room, pushing open the door and closing it behind me. Dropping my backpack on the floor, I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking about the look on Julio's face earlier. The anger, the betrayal. We all felt it, but he took it harder than anyone. He didn't just want Dad to fix things—he needed it, and every time Dad let us down, it hit Julio like a punch to the gut.

I lay there for a while, lost in thought, until I heard soft murmur of voices downstairs. The voices drifted up, and I sat up quickly, my pulse quickening. Dad and Teodoro.

I hesitated for a moment before heading back downstairs. As I reached the bottom, I could hear Dad's voice, low and unfamiliar, speaking in soft tones I wasn't used to hearing from him. He was the man who barked orders and then vanished for weeks at a time.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching as Dad and Teodoro stepped inside. Dad was holding  Teodoro's hand, guiding him gently into the house. Teodoro's face was blank, his eyes downcast, and he didn't make a sound. He hadn't changed much since the last time I'd seen him—same quiet, closed-off expression—but something about the way he moved seemed different, like he was carrying a weight that wasn't there before.

Dad glanced up and caught my eye. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The air between us felt thick with unsaid words.

"Ivan," Dad called, finally breaking the silence. His voice was calm, almost cautious. "Hello son, how was school today"

"School went well. How was therapy?" I asked softly, more to Teodoro than to Dad.

Teodoro didn't even look at me. I wasn't sure if I should continue or just keep quiet. I felt frozen, torn between the need to protect him and the fear that nothing I did would make a difference.

Teo still didn't answer, his eyes fixed somewhere far away. Dad gave his hand a gentle squeeze before turning to me again. "It'll take time," he said quietly, almost as if he was asking me to believe in him. To believe he was finally doing something right.

I nodded but didn't say anything. Instead, I turned and headed back up the stairs, feeling a strange mixture of hope and doubt swirling inside me. Maybe Dad was trying to change, but after everything, it was hard to let go of the past. Hard to believe that things could ever go back to the way they should've been.

Upstairs, I found Julio in his room, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. The frustration was still etched across his face, his anger not yet cooled. I didn't know what to say, so I leaned against the door frame, waiting for him to look up.

"Teodoro's back," I said finally. "Dad took him to therapy."

Julio lifted his head, his eyes flashing with disbelief. "He actually went with him?" he muttered, sounding as if the idea was completely foreign to him.

I nodded. "Yeah. He did."

Julio let out a bitter laugh. "Great. So, now he's a therapist and a father? What's next?"

I didn't have an answer. I wasn't sure what Dad was trying to prove either, but I didn't want to push it with Julio. His anger ran deeper than mine, and I didn't want to make things worse.

"I don't know, Julio," I said quietly. "But maybe he's trying."

Julio just shook his head, falling back onto his bed. "He's too late."

I didn't argue, but a small part of me hoped he was wrong.

I lingered at Julio's door for a moment, watching the tension in his face, the way his fists clenched and unclenched like he was fighting off everything he felt. He was always like that—holding it all in until it boiled over. I wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but I knew that wouldn't work. Julio didn't want to hear me try to defend Dad. Not after everything.

"You don't have to believe him," I said softly, still leaning against the door frame. "I don't think any of us do, really."

Julio's eyes darted to mine for a brief second before he looked away. "Yeah, well, we've all needed him at some point. And look where that's gotten us."

I didn't have a response to that. He wasn't wrong.

Julio flopped back onto his bed, one arm slung over his eyes. He wasn't going to talk anymore, not right now. I could feel it. So I left him there, walking quietly back out and heading toward my own room.

But as I passed the hallway window, I glanced down to see Dad still in the driveway, watching as the maid helped Teodoro inside. There was something different about the way he stood, like he didn't quite know his place anymore. He looked... lost.

I hated that it made me feel something—pity, maybe, or hope. It was hard to say.

I turned away from the window and went back to my room, closing the door behind me and sitting on my bed. The weight of the day hung heavy on my shoulders. Teodoro had always been mine to look after, even when Dad wasn't around. He was quiet, sure, but we had our ways of communicating—at least we used to.

But lately? He'd been distant, even from me. And that hurt more than I wanted to admit. I had tried everything to keep us all together, to be there for my brothers when Dad wasn't. But now, with Teodoro pulling away, I didn't know what to do anymore. It felt like I was losing him too, and it scared me more than anything.

I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the quiet dinners, the long walks Teo and I used to take, where neither of us spoke, but everything felt understood. Now, even those moments were slipping away, and I didn't know how to fix it.

A soft knock on the door startled me, and for a second, I thought it might be Teodoro. But when the door creaked open, it was Lorenzo, his tall figure filling the doorway. He had that same cold expression on his face, the one that never wavered, even when things were falling apart around us.