When I finally woke up in the sterile confines of a hospital room, the sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, pulling me into the harsh reality of my surroundings. My mum and dad rushed to my side, their faces a mix of relief and worry, a whirlwind of emotion evident in their expressions.
"Elara, are you alright?" my mum asked first, her voice trembling slightly, concern etched deeply into her features.
I offered a gentle nod, accompanied by a fragile smile, though inside me a turmoil raged. My dad, his eyes soft with both love and apprehension, squeezed my hand softly. "We're running a DNA test on all of you," he said, his voice steady yet heavy with implications. "Since Damon's not our son, we have to know why. But I still love and trust your mother a hundred percent." He raised his hand, tenderly placing it on my mum's shoulder. She turned towards him then, and they embraced, their faces reflecting a moment of shared vulnerability. Despite her efforts to remain strong, I could see the glistening tears escaping her eyes, tracing sorrowful paths down her cheeks.
"Um... Mum, Dad? Can I have a moment to myself?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, strained with the weight of my emotions.
"Yeah, sure," my mum replied, her voice softening, as my dad nodded in agreement. "We'll go grab something outside." They left quietly, closing the door behind them, leaving me in the muted solitude of the room.
I disentangled myself from the crisp sheets and shuffled toward the window, the world outside in bright daylight. It wasn't until I stood there, looking at the bustling scenery, that the tears began to cascade down my cheeks, each droplet a testament to my turmoil. I bent down, sinking to the floor, and cried as I had never cried before. Each sob echoed the betrayal of reality crashing down upon me: Damon was not my brother after all. The facade I had clung to crumbled, leaving only a raw ache in its wake. Why hadn't I seen it sooner? It felt so painfully unjust. Gripping my chest, I squeezed tightly, the physical pain mirroring the agony swirling within.
Later, a nurse entered and informed me that Damon was awake, asking if I wanted to visit him. "No," I replied instinctively, an icy lump forming in my throat. The thought of facing him now felt impossibly awkward. What could I possibly say? He wasn't my brother anymore. The air hung heavy with uncertainty, and I wished nothing more than to retreat into solitude.
But before I could collect my thoughts, the door creaked open, and I turned to see Damon walking in.