"Oh, you have your father's face," Elizabeth murmured as she wrapped her arms around Kyle, squeezing him tight. Her embrace was warm but suffocating, the kind of hug that seemed to hold a lifetime of love and loss in its grasp. Kyle gasped softly, his ribs still aching from the surgery.
"Mom, not too tight," Isaac chuckled, placing a gentle hand on his mother's shoulder. "He just had surgery."
Elizabeth pulled back immediately, her eyes wide with concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry, dear. I'm just… overwhelmed. I'm your grandmother, Elizabeth Rivers." Her voice quivered with emotion as she took a step back to give him a better look, her hands cupping his face as if she needed to reassure herself that he was real.
Kyle's lips twitched into a small smile. "I know who you are," he said, laughter bubbling up in his chest despite the tension. It was strange how natural it felt to joke with a woman he'd never met, yet at the same time, it was like meeting a complete stranger.
Elizabeth's eyes glistened as she gazed at him. "And you have your mother's eyes." Her voice softened with the tenderness of someone who had spent many years missing someone they loved. Her words hung in the air, making the room feel heavier.
A shadow flickered across Kyle's face as he heard the mention of his mother. He had so many questions, all fighting to burst out at once. "Did my mom have any family?" he asked cautiously, his gaze flickering from Elizabeth's hopeful expression to Isaac's watchful eyes.
For a brief moment, Kyle saw something shift in Elizabeth's face, a flicker of sadness, maybe even disgust, that passed so quickly he almost doubted if it was there at all. She quickly masked it with a bright, reassuring smile. "No, dear," she said, her voice steadier than before. "Your mother's parents died when she was just a little girl. She didn't have any living relatives. But don't you worry," she continued, patting his hand, "you have more than enough family with us."
Her words felt genuine, yet Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unsaid lurking beneath her response. His chest tightened, a familiar unease settling in, but he forced himself to push it aside. The questions could wait. For now, he was just trying to make sense of the new reality unfolding before him.
Isaac, who had been leaning casually against the wall, spoke up, his tone more serious than before. "Kyle… or, I guess I should call you Ethan," he began, shifting his weight as if the words were heavy on his tongue. "Who shot you? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Kyle stiffened, the tension coiling in his muscles like a snake ready to strike. His gaze fell to the floor, his fingers curling into the thin fabric of the hospital blanket. The memory of Adam's shotgun, the roar of the blast, the burning pain in his side, it all surged back with a vividness that made him feel like he was back there, bleeding and running for his life.
Elizabeth's soothing voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. "Isaac, let him be," she said, shooting a disapproving look at her son. "There will be time for questions later. Right now, let my grandson rest."
Isaac's face softened, though Kyle could see the curiosity still burning behind his eyes. "Of course," Isaac said, nodding in agreement. "We can talk about all that later."
He glanced at his phone, his brow furrowing for a second before he looked back at Kyle. "Everyone's here, you know. The whole family. They're outside, waiting to meet you."
Kyle's heart stumbled over itself. Everyone? He swallowed hard, the word ringing in his ears. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, meeting a whole group of people who suddenly claimed him as their own. What would he say to them? How was he supposed to feel?
Elizabeth must have sensed his hesitation because she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to meet them all at once, sweetheart," she said kindly. "One step at a time. Would you like to see them?"
He hesitated, his throat tightening as if it was fighting to keep the words down. But he knew he couldn't hide from this forever. He had to start somewhere, and as terrifying as it was, these people were his family. His real family. Slowly, he nodded, forcing a shaky smile onto his lips. "Okay," he whispered. "I'd like to meet them."
The door creaked open, and Isaac stepped into the hallway, his silhouette briefly framed by the light outside. "I'll bring them in, just a few at a time," he said, his voice a low murmur as he spoke to someone just out of sight.
Moments later, a woman and two teenage girls entered the room. The woman was elegant, her dark hair streaked with silver, and she carried herself with an air of calm dignity. The girls, twins from the looks of it, seemed to be about sixteen or seventeen, their wide eyes studying Kyle with a mix of curiosity and awe.
"Kyle… or Ethan," the woman began, her voice smooth and warm like honey. "I'm Clarissa, your aunt. These are my daughters, Maria and Elise." She stepped forward, her smile genuine but tentative, as though she didn't quite know how close to stand.
The girls hung back for a moment before Maria, the slightly taller of the two, edged forward. "We… we can't believe you're here," she said quietly, her voice breaking just a bit. "Mom used to tell us stories about you when we were kids. We… we didn't know if you'd ever really come back."
Elise, who had been silent up until now, looked up at Kyle and then at her mother "do I really have to be here" she says nonchalantly. "Elise!!!" Clarissa scorned,
"What I have places to be, things to do" Elise added. "Ignore hr, she seems to lack manners" Clarissa says to Kyle.
Kyle didn't know what to say. He stared at their faces, searching for any trace of familiarity, but there was none. It was like standing in front of a mirror and seeing a stranger staring back at him. "I don't… I don't remember anything," he confessed, his voice barely audible. "I don't remember any of you."
Clarissa stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "That's okay," she said softly. "You've been through so much. We're just glad you're alive." There was a warmth in her gaze that comforted him, but also a sadness, as if she were mourning the years that had been stolen away.
As they spoke, Kyle's eyes drifted toward the shadows in the corner of the room, where the dim light seemed to dance and twist. For just a moment, he could have sworn he saw a figure there, a man, standing motionless, his gaze fixed on Kyle. He blinked, and the figure was gone, leaving only the darkened corner.
The voice echoed faintly in his mind again, a whisper just beyond the edge of hearing. "Ethan…"
He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the feeling that had taken root in his chest, a sense that there was more to this story than he was being told. Something was wrong. But here, surrounded by these people who called him family, he couldn't voice the fear that gripped him. It was as though the darkness was watching, waiting.
"Kyle?" Clara's voice drew him back to the present. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," he replied quickly, forcing another smile as he glanced back at her. "I'm just… trying to process everything."
She nodded understandingly. "It's a lot, I know."
More relatives trickled in after them, each bringing with them their own stories, their own memories of the little boy they had lost. Kyle did his best to keep up, to absorb the flood of information, but there was always that feeling in the back of his mind, a cold dread that whispered that not everything was as it seemed.
Because for every loving face he met, he couldn't help but feel like there was something lurking in the shadows, something that didn't belong, a secret that had followed him all the way here. Call it imposter syndrome or what not, but something deep inside him felt off. Could all this be too good to be true? Or is he reading too much meaning to it?