Fernando's hug was an anchor, a safe harbor after a night and a morning of emotional storms. He enveloped her with a strength that wasn't oppressive, but deeply comforting, the kind of hug only an older brother can give, one that says "I'm here, everything will be okay" without words. Lysandra clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, a blend of travel, the fresh air of some faraway place, and something intrinsically hers, Fernando's, that time and distance hadn't been able to erase.
In that instant, suspended in the warmth of his brotherly embrace, the years faded and a cascade of childhood memories flooded over her, as vivid and luminous as if they had happened yesterday.
She saw herself, a little girl with wide-open violet eyes, sitting on the floor of the mansion's library, while a teenage Fernando, with the patience of a saint and the seriousness of a young scholar, pointed out the letters in a picture book. "Say 'ar-tree,' Lys," he said, his voice already beginning to acquire the depth that now characterized it. And she, with a clumsy tongue and childlike determination, repeated over and over: "A-bo... ad-bol... a-tree!" until the word finally came out correctly, and Fernando's proud smile was her best reward.
Then, another image: Fernando, a little older, suffering from a persistent coughing fit after a cold. She, with her small hands, clumsily patted him on the back, imitating what she had seen her mother do, her face filled with childlike concern and a loving desire to ease his discomfort. And he, between coughs, managed to smile at her and hug her tightly, whispering a "thank you, shorty" that made her feel immensely important.
She remembered the fights, inevitable between siblings. The tug-of-war over a particularly coveted toy—an old tin soldier that had belonged to her grandfather—the tears of frustration, and then the reconciliation, often instigated by Fernando, ending with an awkward hug and a promise to share. She saw her own tiny figure running through the halls, squealing with a mixture of fear and amusement, after having meticulously messed up Fernando's rock collection in his room, knowing he would chase her, but that his "anger" never lasted long.
Each memory was a flash of light, of warmth, of that unbreakable connection that had withstood time and distance. When they finally separated slightly, though Fernando still kept his hands on her shoulders, looking at her with a tenderness that blurred her eyes, he smiled with that familiar mischievousness.
"Sorry it took over an hour since the call, silly," he said, his deep voice ringing with affection. "I had other matters to attend to before getting here, some unexpected formalities at the airport, and, well..." He paused, and his gaze shifted for a moment to the attractive young woman waiting patiently at his side, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips as she observed the siblings. Lysandra's heart leapt, anticipation rising like a tide. Fernando looked back at her, his hazel eyes shining with a mixture of pride and something Lysandra couldn't quite decipher. "...and for her, my..."
The sentence hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Lysandra held her breath, her gaze darting from Fernando's expectant smile to the serene, beautiful face of the stranger. His what? His wife? His fiancée? A colleague from China? The Thorne mansion, which had already witnessed so many revelations in the past twenty-four hours, seemed to hold its breath along with her, waiting for the word that would define this new and mysterious figure in their lives.