By the time the sun was high, preparations were already underway. I wasn’t there yet, but later I would learn that he carried Elina around the house as if nothing was broken between them, and that he personally made breakfast for everyone.
That alone shocked the household. It was clear they had been going through a difficult phase, yet that morning felt strangely warm.
Elina announced that an older brother would be arriving later that day.
She said a few small arrangements needed to be made, especially in the children’s room, which Father would handle, along with food and preparations. Before she left, she gently reminded the girls to be kind, to show no hostility, and not to make their new brother feel uncomfortable.
I didn’t know any of this at the time.
By evening, the wagon finally stopped.
The moment the wheels creaked to a halt outside the house, a crowd gathered. I could hear them before I saw them—whispers, shuffling feet, anxious breaths.
Everyone was curious, nervous, and uncertain. A new son. An older brother. Someone who had appeared out of nowhere.
When the wagon was lowered, John stepped forward with Elina. I could feel it then—the moment they decided it was time to bring our new brother.
The new brother perspective.
My legs trembled as I stood. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or the cold. My face stayed bright, though. I had learned long ago how to look cheerful even when my heart wasn’t. I wanted to seem friendly... but I was wary too.
As I stepped down, everyone stared.
So many eyes.
The noise, the crowd, the unfamiliar faces—it made me stagger for a second. But then I saw him.
The baby.
The moment I laid eyes on him, a strange sensation twisted in my stomach. Familiar... yet deeply uncomfortable. My chest tightened with a mix of nausea and unease. I didn’t understand why, but I couldn’t stop staring.
Later, I would realize it wasn’t just him I was reacting to—it was everything.
I was about ten or eleven, taller than most of the girls, dressed in patched clothes that had long since lost their original color. My knees were scarred from running through fields and woods. My hair was messy, unrefined.
Compared to Father’s rough but handsome appearance, I probably looked like an unsheltered village kid.
No one spoke for a few seconds.
One of the girls stared at me like she couldn’t decide whether she needed to look up or step back. I noticed it. I noticed everything.
Then Elina smiled.
"Everyone," she said gently, "meet your beloved older brother, Gustav. And Gustav—welcome to your new home and family."
The word felt heavy. Unreal.
They brought me inside quickly, perhaps worried one of the younger children might start crying or asking questions. That night was loud and overwhelming—food, voices, laughter, movement everywhere.
Everyone seemed excited, barely able to eat or sleep.
I couldn’t eat much either.
After the meal, they showed me my room. It was clean. Warm. Too unfamiliar. Everyone eventually went to sleep, though it was already late.
But I didn’t.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.
Too many things had happened in one day. A new house. New siblings. A new woman being called Mother. Father acting like this was normal. Of course, itt wasn’t.
Everything inside me rejected it.
Ever since I arrived, Father kept calling that woman his wife—and those children his kids. If my mother hadn’t warned me, I might have believed this lie.
She told me to be careful of a woman named Elina. She told me she was the one who stole Father away. The one who destroyed our family.
At first, I didn’t believe her.
But then I saw the baby. Those eyes, not the eyes a normal baby should have, they were four and looked scary. Like the eyes of a demon
The unease turned into certainty.
How could she take another woman’s husband and live happily like this? How could my real mother suffer alone while this woman smiled and laughed in her place?
The more I thought about it, the deeper my thoughts sank. The unfairness burned in my chest, slowly turning into something darker.
My lips curled into a cold smile—nothing like the childish grin I had worn earlier.
’Elina,’ I muttered quietly but coldly, the name tasted bitter in my mouth.