Mother

Chapter 19

3rd POV*

Dominic stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt for what felt like the hundredth time. The stiff cotton felt strange against his skin, like it didn't quite belong to him. He hadn't had dinner with his sons for years, not since the boys were small. Not since she was still here. He could hardly remember the last time he even called them all to the table.

His reflection looked back at him, tired and older than he remembered. The lines around his eyes were deeper, his hair more gray than it had been the last time he really looked at himself. He didn't know how tonight would go. The house had been so quiet for so long, each of the boys doing their own thing, living their own lives. He wasn't sure if he even knew how to bring them back together, but he had to try.

"One meal." he thought. "Just one meal together." That's a start.

He smoothed his shirt again, pulling at the collar as if it would help him breathe easier. A glance at the clock told him Maria was probably finishing up dinner, setting the table as she had for years. She hadn't said much when he asked her to do it, only nodded and went about her work. But the tension in her shoulders told him everything. She didn't expect much from tonight either.

Dominic walked to the door, pausing in the hallway. The house felt still, almost like it was holding its breath. The boys were scattered around somewhere, likely in their rooms or maybe outside. He thought about knocking on their doors, but something held him back. He wasn't sure he had the right to do that anymore—to walk into their space like nothing had changed, like he hadn't been absent for years.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he headed downstairs. He could smell the roast and potatoes as he approached the dining room, a meal Maria had made countless times before. It was simple, but hearty. Comforting, in a way. He only hoped the boys would feel the same.

Maria was in the kitchen, placing the last of the food onto platters. She caught his eye for a moment, her face still unreadable, before turning back to the stove. He opened his mouth to say something, anything but the words were caught in his throat. What could he say? That he hoped this would bring them together? That he thought this dinner would somehow fix what he had broken over the years?

Instead, he simply nodded to her, then stepped into the dining room. The table was set, everything laid out perfectly, just like it used to be. For a moment, Dominic stood there, taking it all in. It almost felt like the past. Almost.

But things are different now.

He took a deep breath and called out, his voice carrying through the house. "Dinner's ready. Come to the table."

The words felt foreign on his tongue, heavy with uncertainty. He wasn't sure if they'd come, or if this would be just another awkward attempt at connection that fell flat. But he had to try. He couldn't afford not to anymore.

Dominic stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the back of a chair, waiting. The room felt too large, too empty, even with all the plates set and silverware polished. The soft clinking of dishes in the kitchen from Maria was the only sound filling the silence. He could hear faint footsteps in the distance, but no one had appeared yet. He glanced down at his watch, his stomach tightening.

The house was never meant to be this quiet, this fractured. He thought back to the times when the table was full, the boys laughing, their mother moving between them with ease. But those days were long gone. Now, each of the boys was a stranger in their own home—pulled apart, not just by time but by all the things that had gone unsaid for years. The silence stretched longer than he expected, and for a moment, Dominic wondered if they were ignoring him. He wouldn't blame them.

Maybe this was a mistake, he thought, his grip tightening on the chair. Maybe I should've waited longer, tried harder before springing this on them.

But before he could backpedal, he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Enrique was the first to appear, his expression neutral but his eyes cautious. He gave a brief nod toward his father before walking over to his usual spot at the table. Dominic noticed the way Enrique moved—calm, deliberate, but with that undercurrent of tension that was hard to ignore.

"Smells good," Enrique said quietly, sitting down without much more to say.

Before Dominic could respond, Julio strolled in next, his face set in its usual defiant scowl. He didn't bother saying anything, just slouched into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His jaw clenched as he stared at the table, clearly not thrilled about being here.

Ivan followed closely behind, his gaze flicking between his brothers and the table. He didn't say a word, just quietly took his seat, looking more uneasy than usual. Ivan was always the quiet one, the one who held things together, especially with Teo. But tonight, Dominic could see the strain in his eyes.

Lorenzo came last, of course. He moved with that same cold authority he always had. His presence filled the room, not because he was loud, but because he carried a weight that none of the other boys had. Lorenzo nodded to his father briefly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were sizing up the situation before sitting down at the far end of the table. He didn't need to say much, his silence was commanding enough.

"Where's Teo?" Dominic asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "He'll be down," Ivan mumbled. "Just give him a minute."

Dominic's chest tightened. Teodoro was the hardest to reach, the youngest, the one who had never really known him. How could he? Dominic had been absent for most of Teo's life. But today, after therapy, he had seen a glimpse of something, maybe the faintest trace of trust. He wasn't sure, but he hoped.

Maria stepped into the room, placing the last dish on the table and giving Dominic a pointed look before retreating to the kitchen. She had warned him—warned him that this dinner wouldn't be a fix-all, that the boys wouldn't just open up because he'd decided to sit them down for a meal. But still, he had to try. He sat down at the head of the table, clearing his throat, his eyes moving across each of his sons.

"Let's eat," he said, the words stilted, as he motioned to the food.

The boys began passing the dishes in silence. The clink of plates and forks filled the room, but not a word was spoken. Julio was the first to break the silence, stabbing his fork into a piece of meat a little too forcefully.