Chapter 36: XXXII

— RORI —

On Tuesday afternoon, my brothers pay me a visit; all but Zephaniah and Teddy present.

A few of them attempt a smile, others seem to ignore me all together, and, all in all, it is unconventional.

Even though some of the bouquets are a few days old, they flourish in this wearisome environment, brightening up the otherwise dull interior. Upon entering the room, Quentin sneezes for a few long moments, resulting in Seamus launching one of the many nearby boxes of tissues at him, hitting the back of his head in the process. Our brother turns to scowl at him, rubbing the spot where it had landed.

"Ow!" he exclaims. "Do you mind!?"

The elder ignores him, ever so lovingly shoving him out of the way, as he takes the last seat beside Uvaldo, who resides on the couch to the left of me. I roll my eyes at their typical, self-involved, bickering, and divert my attention elsewhere.

Once Seamus has settled, he faces me and lifts his head in acknowledgement. Quentin, on the other hand, still projects a mean glare at our brother.

My eyes then drift to Uvaldo, and i retract slightly when i see the lifeless look in his eyes. This is such a common theme amongst my siblings. In particular, Teddy. They say eyes are the window to the soul, but, if that were the case, he would not have one.

Of course, the only time i have doubted this theory was during our last meeting, when they showed me a smidgen of remorse...

I struggle to reciprocate Uvaldo's gaze, and when he does not shift his expression or say anything to appease me, i promptly direct my attention elsewhere.

Instinctively, i look for Wyatt. Only i am surprised when i find that he avoids eye contact with me entirely. That leaves me with Yakov, Xavi, or Vinnie.

I have to say, all of my brothers seem a little worse for wear, especially the eldest bunch, and i half expect to find that, in my time away from the rest of civilisation, we have entered a zombie apocalypse.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

It takes me a moment to realise that Uvaldo is addressing me and not someone else. My head swivels once more, and there his death stare greets me once again.

"I'm sorry?" i say, unsure of what exactly he is referring to.

"That this Damiano fella approached you — you should have told us the moment it happened, so why didn't you?" he elaborates, catching me off guard when he mentions our new-found relative's name.

I feel a sense of deja vu at his words, as i recall having a similar conversation with Seamus prior to this meeting. Still, they clearly do not know the whole story if they are asking such questions. And either way, why would they assume that i am in a position where i can share this news with them?

With this knowledge, i glance to his right, as if urging Seamus to intervene, but even he appears curious, and, as i glance around the room, the same goes for the rest of our brothers.

Luckily, Vinnie comes to my rescue as he clears his throat and sends a meaningful glare in Uvaldo's direction. The latter isn't impressed by this, but relents nonetheless.

I send Vinnie a smile which fails to meet my eyes, but i gather he can sense my gratitude. In the meantime, i choose to ignore Uvaldo, who's eyes bore into me even still.

"Where is Zephaniah?" i ask when the room falls into an uncomfortable silence once more.

My brothers appear displeased by my question. Even Yakov doesn't hurry to give me an answer.

"Zephaniah is in New York," the latter eventually responds, a solemness to his tone.

This news comes as a shock to me, though i'm not sure why. I expected that he would be a no show today, but to have left the state and returned to New York? That i never saw coming.

"Oh," my voice is small, almost gutted despite my efforts to conceal my concern.

The funny thing is, though Zephaniah and Yakov have spent most of their time in the US residing in NYC, i have not visited once.

It's crazy, i know. If you're living in the US — or even visiting — NYC is a must. But the facts are, when i found out that is where he and Yakov ventured off to, i initially wanted not to go near it.

I recall that New York was one of the first out of state trips that Xavi and Wyatt went on, accompanied by their friends from high school, but i'm not sure if they visited again much after our brothers moved there. It's almost as if the East Coast became their patch, the West Coast ours, and neither of us dared to disrespect that.

On the other hand, a huge part of me always longed to visit New York. Ever since i first watched Home Alone 2 and saw how magical the city looks at Christmas time, that is.

At first, i was overjoyed to be spending my Winter in the sun as opposed to the freezing, life threatening, temperatures i was used to, but, after the first year or two, i was sick of it.

I want snow. I want below freezing. I want the Rockefeller ice rink and want to watch the tree light up. Why would a scrooge like Zephaniah choose to spend his Winters some place like that?

The closest i ever got to visiting was during a summer. A spontaneous plan which fell through...

"He'll be back, Rori."

At the sound of Yakov's voice, i break away from my thoughts.

"Did you want to speak to him so soon?"

His voice is so uncharacteristically gentle as he speaks to me; a far cry from his usual, monotonous, authoritative tone. It's almost as if he can feel what i'm feeling.

I rapidly shake my head at his question.

"It's not about that," i say, my voice barely above a murmur. "I don't want to see him."

"Then what?"

Yakov regards me with such patience i have never witnessed from him before — not that he is lacking in it — and it overwhelms me for some reason.

"Doesn't he want to speak to me?"

A crease forms in the bridge of his nose as he stares down at me, and i already feel like crying at the sound of my own voice, once again doubting my eldest brother's integrity.

"It's not about what Zephaniah wants. You need space before you can work through things. And, in the meantime, you need to work through your individual matters."

He is right, of course.

I need space, and i have refused to be around Zephaniah since i first regained consciousness after my operation. Even if he did want to talk to me then, and even if he does want to talk to me now, he should not.

I have nothing to say to him and yet everything all at once, and i am dreading the moment where i lay my eyes on him once more.

"Is there anything else we should discuss?" he deliberately prompts me, a knowing look in his eyes.

I don't appreciate being put on the spot like this, but i guess i asked for it when i decided to bring our absent brother into the conversation.

I glance around at the rest of my brothers once more and notice them all staring at me with the same attentive expression.

"Do they know about what happened between Damiano and Zephaniah?" i ask, redirecting my gaze to Yakov once more and talking as if they are not a few feet away from us. "Do they know about our family?"

I, of course, did not bring anything up the other day when Seamus and Quentin came to visit.

Hell, i was traumatised, and i'm betting that they were traumatised too. Not that much has changed in that respect. My twins put on a brave face for me but i know that if i was there to witness their initial reaction to what happened that wouldn't have been the case.

The only thing they mentioned was that they hadn't seen Zephaniah since his birthday and only a few of the adults had spoken to him.

"Yes, Rori," Xavi decides to answer, his voice particularly hoarse. "Each one of us in this room knows of everything that happened."

Everything.

Everything minus a few minor details, of course. That is no doubt why Uvaldo immediately began interrogating me.

They want to know what made me join forces with a total stranger and turn my back on the head of our family. More importantly, i imagine they want to know how i could do such a thing and fly under the radar all the same.

"Why did you lie to us?" i ask him.

"I'm sorry?" he quirks an eyebrow at me, as if unknowing.

"Why didn't you tell us that father was dead, or that our mother was banished?" i ask him, my tone aggrieved. "Do you understand that i had to learn such facts from a mere stranger i had met just minutes prior?"

At this, the attention is taken away from me and placed on my guardian. He pays no mind to the stares of our brothers, maintaining eye contact with me as he answers, "We have our reasons."

"Which are?" i press.

"You were a kid, Rori, when all of this happened," he reasons. "Eight years old. You really think we were gonna sit down with our twelve, and ten, and eight year old siblings and tell them the truth about Mama and Papa?"

"So everyone from Zephaniah to Vinnie knew about this?" i ask, darting glares at each of them.

"Did you ignore what i said?" Xavi asks, calmly.

"I mean, obviously, deep down, i didn't believe that we left them behind due to immigration laws. And maybe, deep down, i figured that both of them were dead, so what a shock to find out mother is still alive," i rant without pause. "And father is dead...father has been dead this whole time. You told me he was away for business before we left, but really he was dead. Dead at the hands of his own brother."

I can't believe i was so focused on Zephaniah's safety throughout this whole ordeal that i neglected to acknowledge everything my brothers had been keeping from us.

And to think Damiano assumed i was well aware of my father's death!

Not when these group of men are involved. Never when these group of men are involved. They are the kings of brushing things under the carpet and unveiling them at their own convenience.

I mean, seriously, if the whole gang business doesn't work out, they should consider acting professionally.

"And i suppose you already knew about this child of Zephaniah's?" i ask him, my tone rather accusatory.

Based off my brothers reactions, it seems i forgot myself. From the corner of my eye, i notice Seamus and Quentin share a bemused look with one another. Even Wyatt lifts his head, his eyes as wide as saucers, and, in the background, i hear Uvaldo choke as he sips his water, to which Quentin aids him by patting him on the back. Or, rather, slapping him, as the action is far from gentle.

It is this spectacle which ultimately causes Xavi's stern face to close its eyes and deeply inhale, as is traditional in this family when one has reached their limit.

If it weren't for the subject matter, i am sure a few of us would be greatly amused right now.

Uvaldo shoots a glare at Quentin as he swats his arm away, clearly not grateful for his assistance, and his choking dies down a moment later.

Only then do i receive an answer. Not from Xavi, but from Yakov.

"Nobody knew but myself," he reveals, candidly. "And, even then, i did not know much...I only reached out to Zephaniah when i found out what happened to Veronica. He assured me that it had everything to do with Henryk and his son. He showed me proof. Albeit, there was little. Said he had dealt with Damiano for the time being, and that was that. A week later, our relationship had returned to what it once was. Only, i became more protective of him."

Yakov's speech comes as a shock to me, though, by the lack of movement in our siblings' expressions, they could have heard the story a dozen times over.

"Reached out to him?" i ask, confused. "As in, you guys weren't talking?"

"To say we weren't talking is a very civil way of putting it, my dear sister," he tells me, plastering a grim smile on his face.

"Well, you're a very civil man," i point out.

"Mhm," he responds, secretively.

"What went wrong?"

"You must know, our brother's actions were not presented to me in anything other than a negative light. I wanted to wash my hands of him, Rori. I'll spare you the unnecessary details and tell you that i ended up ordering him to leave New York for good. As a result, i, too, left the state, moved to France for the time being, and i don't believe either of us returned until after we deemed the case was closed, over a year later."

His previous answer shocked me, but this one has thrown me for a loop all the same. This whole time, i was so sure that they were joined to the hip like they have been since childhood. But here i find that, not only were they not talking to one another, they essentially lived separate lives for over a year.

There are so many things about this which surprise me, like the fact Yakov 'ordered him to leave New York', or the fact they rekindled their relationship so quickly after reuniting. And i don't know whether i should be more surprised by the latter, or the fact they fell out so badly in the first place...

I've never witnessed Yakov truly angry.

I believe i am saying this to myself, but i must have muttered something similar under my breath, as Yakov's face tenses and he nods.

"Nor should you have to," he responds, nonchalant though there is a gravity to his tone, and his intimidating scar appears rather prominent in this moment.

I breakaway from his gaze with a new perspective.

Yakov, to me, is an endless enigma, and i feel enlightened after each conversation we have. But right now, i feel daunted by the seven pairs of eyes staring at me. It's never fun to be in the hot seat, and, unfortunately, i occupy it most of the time.

"I think it goes without saying, Rori; we all feel terrible about what happened," Vinnie begins, approaching my bedside like Yakov had done. "The house has been so quiet the past few days...it just hasn't been the same."

"That's how i felt being here, all by myself," i murmur, too ashamed to speak up when i say it. "I had never spent the night on my own before."

"You have been so brave, Rori," Yakov insists. "You must know that each and every one of us are so proud of you."

"There's nothing to be proud of." i scoff as if his comment is worth nothing when, in reality, it means the world to me. "I've messed up. Big time. It's all i ever do."

"Don't speak such nonsense, Ria," Xavi scolds, rather sternly. "You're a kid," he emphasises. "You can afford to make mistakes. Besides, you're not the one who did wrong," he reasons.

"I single handedly helped resurface a generational feud," i point out, confused, and look him dead in the eye as i add, "Now look me in the eye and tell me i didn't mess up."

He squints in the way that i often do when presented with a math problem and then tips his head forward slightly as he says, "It wasn't single handed if Damiano was your accomplice."

I tilt my head to the left as i sport a derisive smirk.

"Why must you pretend as though you aren't mad at me?" i ask him.

"I'm a lot of things, Rori, but mad is not one of them," comes his swift rebuttal. "I'm not mad with you, anyway..."

"Then what?" i ask, knowing he is holding onto something.

"I should have known better," he insists. "I'm supposed to be your damn guardian, yet i feel like i lost sight of you from the very beginning," he admits. "I wasn't prepared to raise teenagers, Rori. Least of all a teenage girl. And to think we almost lost you over something so—"

"What are you talking about?" i cut him off. "I'm right here, aren't i?"

"Barely just," he seethes. "You're as pale as a ghost and terrifyingly frail. I can't bare to look at you."

"Then don't," i snap.

As i glance past Xavi and look in the mirror, taking in my appearance, i feel myself blush in embarrassment. My hair is still in yesterday's French braids, i'm wearing my grey lounge sweats and the most oversized jumper known to man; ironically with the words 'New York' written across the front in bold, blue, lettering.

Despite the fact my clothes are drowning me, he is right. I do look weak and frail. I can't bare to look at myself a moment longer either.

"You worried me, Rori," he tells me, meaningfully. "You worried all of us. How am i expected not to blame myself when this is what happens as a result of the freedom i grant you? How, hm? Tell me?"

"I—"

The truth is, i do not have an answer for him.

While Xavi is strict, he does not impose some long list of rules on us. All of his decisions come from a place of trust, but lately i've been pushing the boundaries more than ever.

It isn't about what i did do, it is about what i did not do. After the incident at the club, he made sure i understood i was to go straight to him in the event that a similar situation would arise. And by not telling him about Damiano, i completely disregarded this.

"Going forward, things are going to be different. And i mean that this time. Cellphones will be tracked, and i'm not above monitoring their usage if i have to. Curfews will be followed unless i give you an exception, and if that means i have to wait by the door every night, i will...You know i don't check security footage unless there's a reason to, but, once again, i won't rule it out..."

He isn't just addressing me this time, but my twins too. And even though the three of us and Teddy are the only ones still under his avowed guardianship, he is, in fact, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

"We have only ever wanted you guys to experience a so-called normal upbringing, but if that is no longer attainable, trust that i will do whatever i have to do, and pay whoever i have to pay, in order to keep you guys in line. I refuse to worry about my baby brothers and sister every time they so much as leave my sight. Do you understand me?"

His tone, in all of its severity, leaves us stunned to silence. My older brothers often tease Xavi for being a 'stress-case' and tell us that he has been this way all of his life.

I thought they were exaggerating to be honest, as my memories of Xavi from childhood include a mostly care free boy. I guess his caring responsibilities really do bring out another side of him, however.

"Do. you. understand?" Xavi punctuates each word as he awaits our acknowledgment of his terms.

My twins and i nod, Quentin muttering a 'yes' on behalf of us, and this seems to appease him.

"I'm glad," he responds, and then turns to me once more as he says "I won't carry my baby sister to an early grave. Or any of you, for that matter. You understand me? If anyone goes first in this family, it'll be me; death by insanity from dealing with you idiots and all of your shenanigans." i almost laugh at the way he struggles to pronounce the word 'shenanigans'. Almost. I believe he only just discovered it last week. "Do we agree?" he asks me.

"Yes, Xav," i answer, softly.

I finally make eye contact with Wyatt, but his green irises are impossibly dull.

Things aren't exactly great between us.

I know it is unlike me to admit such a thing, but this has been the case for a while now. I guess it just took until now for me to acknowledge it.

Wyatt and i don't fall out. We're so similar in our ways that it is virtually impossible for our personalities to clash, but such ignorance of one another's lives is almost worse.

He has been gone too often and too recently. So much so that i will admit it has been a struggle for me to refer to him as my favourite.

Of course, it was never that serious. I don't play favourites. Not anymore. Not unless it is of service to me.

The last time we hung out, just the two of us, was when he took me to the pier to get hot dogs and apologised for his most recent absence. Have we grown apart that much that the only time my brother pays attention to me is after he returns from one of his unannounced getaways?

I get that it is hard keeping track of your individual relationships when you have nine siblings, but it's not like i am one of the boys.

I don't feel prepared to speak to him right now. Not with everyone else around. And so, instead, i ask the one question that has been playing on my mind since the seven of them arrived.

"How did Teddy react when you explained everything to him?"

Xavi seems caught off guard by my question, and the rest of my brothers are no better, as nobody jumps to answer me.

I quirk my eyebrows. Never mind how Teddy reacted, the seven of them are acting awfully in tune. Knowing there is one boy in the room who cannot lie without a tell, i turn to Quentin. Upon noticing, he immediately averts his gaze to a spot on the floor.

"Little brother."

He shakes his head.

"I haven't asked you anything. Why are you shaking your head?"

To the left of him, Seamus glares at his brother with such an intensity and then throws his head back in exasperation before doing the same to his older brothers.

"What are you lot, a bunch of pussies?"

"Language."

"Just tell her how it is! The kid doesn't know a lick of what's going on."

My eyes dart to my older brothers once more, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You mean to tell me that our brother isn't aware of anything that has happened within the last few days? Anything at all?"

Wyatt and Vinnie turn to Xavi at my question, the elder raising his eyebrows ever so slightly while his brother folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head with a slight smirk playing on his lips — not with amusement but, rather, a mocking undertone — as if he knew this was coming.

Xavi's eyes find Yakov's in a similarly expectant manner, and the latter turns to answer me without hesitation.

"We are, of course, going to tell him. But you must understand, we will not share such tales with our brother, who is currently out of town, being rehabilitated, surrounded by total strangers whom we cannot trust to withhold such information if they were to somehow acquire it."

He speaks with such a sure confidence, and, while i agree with his statement to some extent, i am not best pleased.

"I can't believe you guys! Are you seriously worried about your reputation, even now? Is that what you've learned from this?"

"No, not our reputation, Rori," at this, Yakov gestures to everyone in the room. "Our reputation. Collectively. Not to mention, our brother is no easy person to communicate with. I'm sure you can at least sympathise with that. I know we are letting you down with this decision, and i am sorry for that. Believe me. But it is in the best interest of everyone involved, including Teddy. When the time is right, he will know."

"When the time is right?" i scoff with incredulity. "You mean in four weeks time, when he comes home? That's unreasonable! How can we expect to leave our brother in the dark for that long? It'll almost be Christmas at that point. Teddy is supposed to start afresh after rehab, not be informed of our family's biggest drama to date. Can't you understand that this will set him back?"

While Vinnie and Seamus now glare daggers at our second eldest brother, Xavi gazes at me with a concerned-filled expression, Uvaldo with evident respect; Quentin nods his head in agreement with my every word, and Wyatt finally takes a break from his brooding to lift the corner of his mouth in appreciation.

Just as quickly as i feel pitted against by my siblings, their solidarity is in my favour.

"I understand why you feel strongly about this," Yakov says, after considering me for a moment, glancing around at the sight of our siblings' equally displeased expressions. "I will first need to speak to our older brother, and then i will need to check on Teddy's current state in order to deem if it is, indeed, suitable for us to share such information with him."

It isn't much reassurance, given Yakov's typically careful wording, but it at least pacifies the situation in the meantime.

"And should you share such information, we should all be there," i declare, even accidentally mimicking his previous words.

Yakov pauses for a moment, almost schooling his features as not to appear annoyed by someone questioning him, and then responds, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, no?"

I try not to worry about Teddy too much throughout the rest of the day, as i know that it is me who should be the focus of attention right now. However, even that makes me uncomfortable as, no matter if i am used to being so, it is never usually for such an overwhelming amount of time.

Xavi catches me yawning during our game of Uno, and his dark eyebrows frown in concern once more.

"You are tired," he notes. "Do you need to rest your head for a while, perhaps take a nap?"

From beside him, Quentin snickers, and i immediately scowl knowing that i'm about to be made fun of. Even if my brothers are still shaken by what has occurred, it never does take them long to return to their bullying ways.

"Don't you know that this is a normal occurrence for her?" he says. "She has the schedule of a preschooler."

Seamus laughs alongside him, and Uvaldo, who's mood has improved only slightly, curls his lips to reveal a mocking grin. Quentin then places a Draw 4 card down, which immediately kills any of the latter's joy.

"Yeah, well—"

I cut myself off and send them a weak glare instead, as, the truth is, i am too tired to retaliate in the slightest.

"You really are tired, Ria." Xavi's voice sounds amused, but has softened now too.

I guess i do need sleep. But it's hard not to with all this medication my doctor has me on. Also, it has been so difficult to sleep in a bed that is not my own.

My own, comfy, double bed, with my own, comfy, double sized comforters...

"Are you sure you don't want us to leave? Even for a few minutes? I'm sure we could all do with some caffeine."

I roll my eyes.

If anyone needs caffeine, it's me. Hello!?

"You guys don't wanna drink the coffee here," i advise them. "It's not all that."

"Coffee is coffee, Rori. None of us are snobbish when it comes to things like that," he reasons, though, when Yakov clears his throat, adds, "Except Yakov."

My brothers face me, expectantly, and i figure the best thing to do is agree, otherwise Xavi will bug me for the rest of the day.

Plus, he all but admitted he needs an excuse to go and get coffee. And since Xavi practically functions on coffee alone, who would i be to deprive him of it?

"Maybe i could do with some rest for a few minutes," i decide, pretending that it is my own idea and i am not just doing so to get him off my case.

Xavi smiles in approval, assures me that when they come back we can continue with the game from where we left off, and, a few moments later, i am alone once again.

The only thing is, i do everything but the one thing that was asked of me. I'm not good at falling asleep most of the time, but i'm especially not good at falling asleep when i have been instructed to do so.

Rather, i should say i am not good at following instructions of any kind, but i'm sure that is apparent by now.

After fifteen minutes goes by at an agonisingly slow pace, i get out of bed and instead decide to finally pay attention to those lovely flowers and the notes which came with them.

A few people i know from The Clubhouse have sent their regards, and the rest of the names i recognise as colleagues of my brothers, but there are no notes from anyone who shares a relationship with me.

It reminds me that i was supposed to ask what story was created to tell the school, as i have not received one message from my friends...

However, shortly after, i hear the door rattling and immediately scramble back to my bed, though i don't have time to close my eyes as it opens to reveal Wyatt.

He gives me a knowing smile as he approaches my bedside, and i look up at him with a small smile of my own, embarassed.

"Did you have a nice sleep?" he asks, though with a subtle mockery in his tone.

I roll my eyes and he laughs, causing me to smile despite myself.

"I tried to sleep, but i can't stop thinking," i admit, and his demeanour softens as he takes a seat beside me.

"I know how you feel," he says.

I frown.

My thoughts from earlier resurface as i stare into my brother's eyes once more. This is the first time he has made conversation with me all day.

Does he even want to, or does he feel he has to now that it is only the two of us in the room?

"What's on your mind?" he asks me.

I don't want to tell him. He'll think i'm stupid and clingy.

"C'mon, Ria," he encourages me, as if listening to my thoughts. "Tell me."

"Are we still friends?"

Wyatt doesn't react initially, clearly not expecting me to ask him that, and then he laughs, quietly and void of judgement but as though he is amused by my question.

"Well, i should hope so," he answers, softly and somewhat patronisingly. "Otherwise i'll have to return all of the friendship jewellery you made for me."

I give him a half-hearted glare. I was, like, six.

"I thought you were mad at me," i tell him.

"When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"Yes, now," i say. "Aren't you mad at me for what happened?"

"Why would i be mad at you?" he asks. "I'm not mad at you, Rori. You've done nothing wrong. I thought that was understood earlier, no?"

This is normally the moment where i would tuck my knees under my chin in solace, but i know that would cause me pain right now and so instead i stick to fidgeting with my bracelet.

"But you didn't speak to me," i point out. "You barely looked at me all day. And you were the one person i was counting on to be normal."

My brother sighs and nods his head in a regretful manner.

"Every time i look at you, i feel sick to my stomach, Ria."

I instinctively recoil, offended as i cry "Mi scusi?"

Wyatt closes his eyes at my misconception.

"Mi hai frainteso," he continues, a little impatient. "I feel sickened by what has happened, Ria. By what you have been through. No sister of mine should have to experience such torment. I could not live with myself if something were to have happened to you...more seriously," he explains, hesitating, though i understand perfectly well what he is implying. "You mean everything to me, Rori. To know that it was Zephaniah who shot you...our own brother...i have never felt so beside myself," he tells me. "Dovrebbe ringraziare la sua buona stella che tu sia vivo, altrimenti pagherebbe un inferno."

"It was an accident," i whisper, still feeling the need to defend my brother despite it all.

"I know," he whispers in return. "But he wouldn't want you to defend his actions, Rori."

I nod my head in agreement. If there's one thing Zephaniah values over anything else in the world, it's undying loyalty. But it also happens to be one of the things he hates.

I think of the words he spoke to me at The Clubhouse, just last month.

"Having a kind heart gets you nowhere, and it will be your downfall. I just don't want you to create unrealistic expectations and then let yourself down when they cannot be met. I just don't want you to put yourself through such pain every time you are willing enough to give somebody a second chance."

The entirety of his speech struck a chord in me. I once remember Wyatt telling me that he sees aspects of our eldest brother within me, though i never quite understood what he meant.

Sure, i may have inherited his impulsiveness, his stubbornness, or even his wit, but such attributes are seen in most of my siblings. I suppose Zephaniah's advice got me to thinking, maybe he wasn't always wired to be so...apathetic.

"What do you think will become of our family?" i ask him. "After all, Damiano won't just disappear. And i assume his brothers know about what happened to some extent," i pause, and then i feel the need to add "Wyatt, ci sono bambini. We have a niece and nephew and a sister-in-law, and, yes these are only our half brothers. Well, awkwardly, we share the same relatives...but we had no idea this whole time! And the fact we had a whole family tree in Italy...meanwhile, were outcasts in Russia, the lot of us. Discarded...forgotten..."

When Damiano spoke of he and Eden struggling to fit in with their brother and cousins, and, in general, our mother's side of the family, naturally, i felt sorry for them.

But what good am i to feel sorry for them when me and my brothers were the ones who were cut off; all because our mother was deemed a bad catholic. In fact, though i do not care for her, it is her that i feel more inclined to be sorry for in this moment.

Her own father cut her off from her family and its dynasty. Her three younger sisters, her children, whoever was important to her, she left behind for our father, whom i was told she truly did love above anything else.

I don't agree with my mother's actions, but to have an arranged marriage as a teenager — i'm guessing around sixteen — and then be oppressed the rest of her life, even by the man whom was supposed to change that for her...I don't know, maybe i'm feeling this way because it is so painfully typical that this life was lead by a woman, but, oddly, my stomach twists as i imagine my mother at my age, oblivious to what her life would become.

I think this is the first time i have ever imagined her in such a light. The fact she used to tell me that she always dreamt of giving birth to a beautiful baby girl. That she hoped i would look just like her, but, even though i ended up almost the entire opposite, i was all the more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. And all i remember thinking as a little girl was how she had to be the most gorgeous woman i had ever seen.

And this woman...i am an extension of her. I am my mother's only daughter. I, too, make bad decisions and trust the wrong people and yet, still, i am not void of optimism.

The thing is, my mother wasn't a good mother. She had no time for us, was too focused on our father; putting up with his abuse for so many years and traumatising her children in the process. She was intelligent and manipulative and would punish us in such harsh ways — often undeserving — in the aim that we would turn on one another instead of her. She pretended as though her problems didn't exist, and, in turn, as though ours didn't. She was, overall, dismissive and cruel.

Yet, despite all of this, i realise that she did not have an easy life. Her mental health was arguably worse than our father's, and she was most likely taught both as a child and an adult that such mental health conditions were not appropriate to discuss. She could never live independently, she could never so much as disobey our father without paying for it, and i know for a fact her punishments were much worse.

Marianna was a bad mother, but her life was dictated by the men around her, so much so that her own son banished her to another part of the world.

"—Ri?"

I don't even realise a sob has broke free from my mouth until i hear my name from Wyatt's tongue.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he coaxes, but my crying is guttural and even more stubborn than me.

I can't bear crying in front of him, but i can't stop myself from doing so either. It gets to the point where i bury my face in his chest, simply so i do not have to face him. He reacts only a moment after, stroking my hair with his free hand, his other cradling my back as he attempts to calm me down with whispered reassurance.

It's always better to cry in his presence than it is in the others'. He doesn't tell me there is no need for it, he just lets me cry as i please. Only, usually when i cry in my brothers' presence, it is a few lone tears at best. Rarely ever have they witnessed me sob with such lack of control that i feel myself struggling to breathe.

And to think i was so distracted i didn't even hear his response to my question...

"Cosa c'è che non va con lei?"

Great.

At the sound of Xavi's voice, my crying stills momentarily. It's one thing to cry in front of Wyatt, but the last thing i need right now is Xavi witnessing it.

"Non lo so, non me lo dirà."

It seems we're doing that thing where we speak in a different language that all of us can understand, only as if the person we are speaking about cannot.

Well, i guess if my brothers wanted to speak about me in a language i do not understand, they would struggle. French is their best bet. Quite a few of them know French, but i neglected it in middle school due to a change in time table.

Most of my knowledge is such useless phrases like Je mange une pomme.

They continue to discuss me in Italian; Wyatt explaining that the two of us were just discussing the events that have recently transpired; our eldest brother, and our family, and how crazy all of it is, and how that must be the reason for my sudden outburst.

Eventually, i force myself to calm down and release myself of Wyatt's embrace. I feel embarrassed, hastily wiping my fallen tears with the back of my thumb.

Typically, Xavi's stoic face narrows in on me, looking me up and down with what seems to be scrutiny though i know to be concern. Wyatt just seems torn, almost as if he thinks he was the real cause of my tears, and that breaks my heart a little.

I'm surprised that Xavi doesn't feel the need to tell me, in that admonishing tone of his, 'There's no need to cry, Ria.' His lips even thin, like his attempt at a reassuring smile.

That Xavi, so expressive.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Wyatt asks, his hand tentatively drawing circles on my back.

I think not, but for their peace of mind, and my own, i cannot lie.

"I was overwhelmed," i admit, though that much is clear. "And i just started thinking about Mama...and it made me cry."

Wyatt's eyes widen after a moment passes, as if doing a double take when he acknowledges my words. Xavi frowns, pensive, before he and Wyatt share a look of disbelief momentarily, and it takes me a moment to notice that Wyatt's hand is no longer drawing circles on my back.

I don't know where this has stemmed from. Not that long ago, i was expressing my disinterest in the fact my mother is alive and well, yet today i am in tears for the same reason.

Though with saying that, i have always acknowledged the lack of a female figure in my life more than i have a male. Well, i don't need a father. I might not even crave a father's love. Sure, from time to time, it hits me, but i have nine men in my life already.

A mother figure is something i do not have; something i will never have. I didn't think it affected me until now, but if i were to overanalyse it i would say that perhaps that is the reason i struggle to form and maintain relationships with my female peers.

I do not miss my mother. I cannot miss my mother. And yet i yearn for her.

"It's okay," Xavi finally says, his voice strangely quiet. "That's okay."

Well, it's the best reassurance he can give.

"It's been a long day," Wyatt adds, finally letting go of me, and i immediately feel dismissed by his choice to do so though i know that is not his intent. "We shouldn't have pushed you to discuss such depressive matters..." he trails off, scratching the side of his head in thought.

Xavi nods his head in agreement.

"It was vital to!" i point out. "And you didn't push me; after all, you would've been happy if i died having no knowledge of our parents whereabouts."

Both of their eyes harshen at this, and Wyatt quickly responds with "What nonsense, Ria...I do believe we've been over this, and i'm sure i can speak on your brother's behalf when i say we do not appreciate you using the words 'happy' and 'died' in that way."

Xavi nods in agreement, but their demeanour soon calms once more at my lack of response.

Im not sure either one of them wishes to directly acknowledge my mention of our mother.

I know it's a difficult topic for all of us, but i'd like to think that if it were my twins in the room with me, or even Vinnie and Uvaldo, they would be at least more comfortable.

It seems to be the eldest who struggle the most in that regard. Though they may mention our parents on their own accord, they seem to be thrown for a loop every time one of us does.

Not that anyone ever has in such a way as i just did, and so i feel the need to defend myself.

But before i can, Xavi opens his mouth.

"Why do you cry for your mother, Rori?" he asks me, his tone one of genuine curiosity and lack of understanding. "She is undeserving of your tears."

It seems like Wyatt didn't expect this from him, as he pins him with a pointed glare, and Xavi merely faces him and shrugs.

"My crying has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me," i answer him, rather sharp with my tone. "Aren't i allowed to grieve what i never had?"

I believe Xavi has always processed things a little differently. He is so like his older brothers sometimes, and perhaps even less equipped to deal with his younger siblings' emotions than the majority of his brothers.

He shows care through scolding us, but not comforting us, and it can be hard to deal with in times like this. At least for me.

I love my brother dearly, i really do, but he needs to work on being more personable.

"It is perfectly okay," Wyatt takes the lead this time around, "and natural. I only wish you had told us sooner," he says, and he gives me a reassuring smile though it does not reach his eyes. "The last thing Xavi and i want is for you to be distressed..."

I am silent for a moment, and suddenly unwilling to discuss this topic furthermore. In need to rid the air of the awkward tension that our absent mother has created, i say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I can't quite believe this Lorenzo is the dominant figure in our family; a man with more authority than even Zephaniah."

Wyatt huffs with amusement and Xavi knowingly smirks.

"It's for the best if you don't point this out to Zephaniah," Xavi says. "I don't think he has truly acknowledged he is fourth in line to some empire...even worse, that Damiano comes before him."

A/N: To those who celebrated, i hope you all had a very merry Christmas, and, to those who didn't, i hope your day was just as swell. Consider this chapter my gift to you all! I was trying my best to update before Christmas but, by the time i was done with assessments on the 22nd, the last thing i wanted to do was more writing. Though this chapter wasn't the most lighthearted, i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless 😀.