WebNovels

Chapter 14 - Episode 6: The Family Accord-Part 1: A Sister's Hope.

 

The low, rhythmic hum of my computer fans was the only sound in my room, a constant white noise that usually meant I was live, connected to my audience, performing. But now, it was just the sound of a silent stream, the "BRB" screen glowing in the dim room. I'd told my chat I needed a quick break—bathroom, maybe a drink. It was a half-truth. The real reason was the unnerving, unfamiliar sound drifting down the hall from the kitchen.

 

Silence, I was used to. The tense, heavy silence that had hung over our apartment for years, broken only by the occasional slamming door or hissed insult. Raised voices, I was used to. The sound of Sael's shrill, angry tirades was a familiar soundtrack to our misery.

 

But this… this was different.

 

It was the low, steady murmur of conversation. Calm. Civil. It was so alien, so utterly bizarre, that it pulled me away from my screen like a magnet. I'd paused my game, my fingers freezing on the keyboard. I'd held my breath, listening.

 

That was Grandma Nadia's soft, hesitant tone. And that… that was Sael's voice, lower and steadier than I'd heard it in years, responding without a trace of venom. My heart did a funny little flip-flop in my chest. Hope, that treacherous thing I'd tried to stamp out long ago, flickered weakly to life.

 

'Maybe… maybe yesterday at dinner wasn't a fluke?' I'd had to creep out of my room, moving on silent feet down the short hallway, drawn by a need to know, to see, to confirm that this miracle was real.

 

I'd pressed myself against the wall just around the corner from the kitchen doorway, my body tense. Eavesdropping was wrong, I knew that. But after years of walking on eggshells, of being screamed at for simply existing, I felt I had a right to know what kind of mood he was in. It was a survival tactic. And then I heard it. The apology. His voice, clear and earnest, saying words I never thought I'd hear.

 

"I need to apologize to you… I have been so cold…" My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp. Tears, hot and sudden, pricked at my eyes. He was apologizing. To her. He was acknowledging the hell he'd put us through.

 

I couldn't help myself. I had to see. I risked a peek, leaning just enough to see into the kitchen through the crack between the wall and the doorframe.

 

And I saw them.

 

They were holding hands across the table. The sight was so profoundly normal it felt revolutionary. Then, he stood up. My breath caught. Was he leaving? Was he about to ruin it?

 

He didn't. He walked over to her. He opened his arms.

 

And Grandma Nadia… she stepped into them. She actually hugged him back. I saw her body, usually so stooped with sadness, melt into the embrace. I saw her face, and the look on it… it was pure, unvarnished joy and relief. It was the look of someone who had been lost in a desert and finally found water.

 

Then it happened.

 

He leaned back, his hands cupping her face. And he kissed her.

 

It wasn't a peck on the cheek. It was a deep, slow, passionate kiss. A man's kiss. I saw his shoulders tense with the intensity of it, saw her hands come up to clutch at his arms. The sound was a soft, wet whisper that seemed deafening in the quiet apartment.

 

A jolt went through me, a confusing lightning strike of shock, awe, and a hot, twisting coil of jealousy that burned in the pit of my stomach. My face flushed. My own body reacted traitorously, a warmth spreading through me at the raw intimacy of it. A thought, selfish and immediate, flashed in my mind: 'I want that. I want him to look at me like that. To want me like that.'

 

I pulled back from the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had to get back to my room before I was caught. I turned, but I was too late. I heard his footsteps. I'd only just managed to pretend I was leaving my room when he rounded the corner and nearly ran into me.

 

I froze, my mind screaming, my cheeks burning with guilt. I fumbled for an excuse, my streamer persona snapping into place like a shield.

 

"Hey. Yeah, just… taking a break. Getting a drink…" It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

 

But he didn't call me out. He just looked at me with those new, calm eyes. And then… he started talking. Really talking. Not the monosyllabic grunts or cruel barbs, but a real, earnest apology. For everything. For the years of coldness. For the stream.

 

Hearing him say it, acknowledge the specific, soul-crushing pain of that day, was like having a splinter I'd carried for years finally, gently, be pulled out. The relief was so potent it made me feel weak. When he said he wanted to set things straight with me too, the last of my defenses crumbled. The hope wasn't just a flicker anymore; it was a bonfire.

 

I nodded, my voice a whisper. "Yeah. You should…"

 

And then I did the bravest thing I'd done in years. I opened my arms. It was a test. I was so sure he would flinch, or scoff, or turn away. I was braced for the rejection, my body already tensing for the familiar hurt.

 

He didn't hesitate.

 

He stepped into my embrace, and his arms wrapped around me. It was like coming home. He felt different. Solid, His hug wasn't the loose, perfunctory hug of the past few years; it was tight, purposeful and intimate. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his scent—laundry detergent and something uniquely, essentially him. I felt the frantic beat of his heart against mine, or maybe it was just my own, pounding like a drum.

 

I felt his hands on my back, warm and sure. Then, one of them began to move. Slowly, so slowly, it trailed down my spine, over the curve of my hip. My breath hitched. This wasn't just a hug. This was… more.

 

His palm slid over the tight denim of my shorts, and his fingers curled, giving my ass a firm, deliberate squeeze.

 

A bolt of pure, white-hot electricity shot straight through me. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped my lips, hot against his ear. Every nerve ending in my body lit up at once. My knees felt weak. I was sure he could feel the frantic, wild hammering of my heart. This was… this was what I'd wanted. What I'd missed. The old intimacy, but now charged with a new, adult hunger.

 

I didn't pull away. I couldn't have if I tried. Instead, I melted into him, my arms tightening around his neck, holding on for dear life. I pressed myself against him, letting him feel every curve, every inch of my body against his. This was a language I understood. This was the Sael I remembered, the one who wasn't afraid to touch, to want.

 

Then, his other hand moved. It slid around my waist, his fingers tracing my skin just under the edge of my crop top, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My stomach clenched with anticipation. His hand moved upward, over the fabric, and finally, carefully, cupped the side of my breast.

 

The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, it was almost painful. A full-body shudder wracked me. A low, stifled moan caught in my throat. His touch was firm, possessive. The sheer size of my breast meant the soft, heavy weight of it spilled over his hand, pressing against his neck. I could feel the rough texture of his palm against the sensitive skin, the firm pressure of his fingers. It was euphoric. It was a claiming. It was everything. He was back. My brother was really, truly back.

 

Emily stood frozen for a long moment after Sael's door clicked shut, her body thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. The rough denim of her shorts still seemed to hold the ghostly impression of his possessive grip, and the memory of his hand cupping her breast sent another delicious shiver through her. The hallway, once just a passage between rooms, now felt like a sacred space, charged with the energy of their reconciliation.

 

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, a soft, shuddering sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years of loneliness out of her. A slow, dazed smile spread across her face. He was back. Not just the shell of him, but the heart of him. The boy who had shared her bed, her secrets, and her body was finally, finally home.

 

Pushing herself away from the wall, she practically floated back into her room. The "BRB" screen still glowed on her monitor, her chat no doubt buzzing with questions. She didn't care. Right now, her audience of thousands meant nothing compared to an audience of one.

 

She caught her reflection in the dark glass of her monitor. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, rosy pink. Her lips were slightly swollen. Her eyes, usually so sharp and focused for the camera, were wide and dreamy, the pupils still dilated. She looked… well, she looked thoroughly kissed and groped. And she loved it.

 

A determined glint replaced the dreamy haze in her eyes. She brought her own hands up, one cupping the impossibly soft, heavy weight of her breast, her thumb stroking the nipple that was still hard and sensitive beneath her top. A promise solidified in her mind, as firm and real as the feel of her own body.

 

"I'm definitely buying those pills," she whispered to her reflection, her voice husky with promise.

 

"I'm going to make sure he latches on again…. As much as he wants…" The thought alone sent another thrill coursing through her.

 

The sudden, practical need for a glass of water broke her reverie. Her throat was parched. Slipping out of her room, she padded on bare feet down the short hall towards the kitchen.

 

She stopped in the doorway, her breath catching a second time that afternoon.

 

Grandma Nadia was at the sink, washing the few dishes from their coffee and tea. But she wasn't just washing them. She was moving with a lightness Emily hadn't seen in years. Her shoulders were straight, not hunched. She was humming—a soft, old, Russian folk tune that had been absent from this house for a decade. The very air around her seemed to shimmer with a quiet, radiant joy. The change was so profound it was almost disorienting.

 

Emily walked softly to the dining table and slid into a chair; her eyes fixed on her grandmother's transformed back. She was so engrossed in the sight that she didn't realize her own face was still a tell-tale canvas of flushed skin and well-kissed lips.

 

Nadia turned, a warm, contented smile on her face as she reached for a towel. The smile faltered as her eyes landed on Emily. She tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of gentle concern.

 

"Solnyshko?". she said, her voice warm.

 

"What is it? You look… odd. Is everything alright? Did something happen with your stream?" She took a step closer, her eyes searching Emily's face. "Your face is so red...".

 

Emily blinked, brought back to the present. She swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of heat in her cheeks. How could she even begin to explain? The words tumbled out in a soft, excited rush.

 

"It's… it's not the stream, Grandma," she started, her voice a little breathless. She looked down at her hands, then back up, a shy but irrepressible smile breaking through.

 

"It was Sael. I… I talked to him... In the hall."

 

Nadia's eyebrows raised slightly, but she remained silent, encouraging her to continue with a soft nod.

 

"He… he apologized," Emily said, the words feeling like a confession of something miraculous.

 

"For everything… For the stream ages ago... For being so… so mean. For pushing me away…" Her voice gained strength as she spoke, the happiness bubbling over.

 

"He said he wanted to set things straight with me, too. And then… then we hugged…."

 

She paused, the memory of his arms around her, the feel of his body, making her heart skip. Nadia's smile returned, wider this time, understanding dawning in her eyes.

 

"That is wonderful, malyshka! I am so happy to hear this!" Nadia beamed, drying her hands on her apron.

 

"It seems my talk with him had a good effect, yes? He is… he is coming back to us."

 

Emily nodded vigorously. "Yes! But… but Grandma…" she bit her lip, the next part harder to say.

 

"The hug… it was… it was a really good hug…" Her eyes met Nadia's, trying to communicate the depth of it without saying the words.

 

"He… he meant it."

 

The look that passed between them was one of complete, understanding feminine conspiracy. Nadia's smile turned knowing, a faint pink dusting her own cheeks as she undoubtedly recalled her own "really good hug" and the kiss that had followed. She didn't need details. The radiant happiness on her granddaughter's face said it all.

 

"He is beginning to find the correct path," Nadia said, her voice firm with conviction. "It is a good change. A strong change. We must support him, da? We must help him stay on this path…"

 

"Da," Emily agreed immediately, her own resolve hardening. Then, gathering every ounce of her courage, she looked down at the table and mumbled the next part.

 

"So… I was thinking… I want to buy those pills. The… the lactation pills.".

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