Adrian''s eyes were red and brimming with tears as he choked out, "Dad, when are you and Moming back? I really miss you both."


    "Very soon," came the gentle reply.


    Lysander smiled softly. "Didn''t I tell you? Real men don''t cry, remember?"


    "I''m not crying!" Adrian quickly wiped his eyes and lifted his small face, trying his best to look brave. "I am a man!"


    Lysander''s smile deepened, his gaze lingering on the stubborn little face on the screen-those fox-like eyes, so much like his own. His voice was rarely this tender.


    "Time for bed now. Mom and Dad will be home before you know it."


    ***


    In the bedroom, M stirred on her side, eyes barely open. One hand was hidden beneath her pillow, trembling where it rested on the hilt of a knife. After a few seconds, she clenched it tightly.


    ***


    After soothing Adrian and ending the call, Lysander returned to the bedroom. The warmth was gone from his demeanor. Hey down next to M, expression nk, staring at her frail, motionless back. A sigh slipped out.


    Time turns in circles.


    How did we end up here?


    He reached out, cing a hand gently on her thin back, tracing the line of her spine with care. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and low.


    "M."


    "He''s our son-flesh and blood, part of you and me. He''s just a child."


    At the very least, you can''t be so cruel to him.


    M didn''t answer. Lysander''s sharp brows twitched, as if he couldn''t bear it any longer. He pulled her roughly into his arms, holding her tight.


    Sometimes, he thought, it was like some kind of curse.


    ***


    "Dad, where''s Mom?"


    Twenty years ago, a ten-year-old Lysander looked up, ring fiercely at the tall, silent man in front of him his father.


    "It''s been twenty days! I haven''t seen Mom for twenty days! Where is she?!"


    Conrad''s face was dark, his patience thin. "She''s away on a trip. She''ll be back soon."


    "Liar!" Lysander''s voice shook with anger. "No matter where Mom goes, she always answers my calls. But for twenty days, she hasn''t picked up once. You''re lying, Dad!"


    Conrad''s expression grew even colder. He was just about tosh out when the butler burst into the room, breathless and excited. "Sir! We''ve found her!"


    Relief broke through Conrad''s stern features. Without another word, he instructed the staff to keep an eye on Lysander and hurried away. That night, his mother came home.


    Lysander was thrilled and ran to find her, but was stopped outside her bedroom door. Inside, the sounds of a fierce argument echoed, punctuated by shattering ss. Fear welled up inside him. He pounded desperately on the door.


    Atst it opened, and his father appeared, exhausted and grim. Lysander tried to


    get past him to see his mother, but was scooped up and carried away. "Mom just needs some time alone."


    ***


    The following year, when Lysander turned eleven, his little brother was born. They named him Eugene Montgomery.


    At the hospital, Lysander peered into the cradle at the crying baby, poking his chubby cheek. The infant''s skin was soft and smooth. Suddenly, Eugene grasped Lysander''s finger, and the crying stopped, reced by a gurglingugh. Lysander''s heart melted.


    This was his brother.


    Aside from his parents, Eugene was the closest family he had the brother he would grow up with, just like any other pair of siblings: trusting, inseparable. Lysander liked him instantly. He promised himself he''d be a good big brother, always protecting Eugene, giving him shelter so their parents could rest easy.


    But then-


    "Dad, why are Eugene''s eyes different from mine? They''re green-so pretty.”


    Lysander tilted his head, curiosity shining in his gaze, but when he looked back, his father''s eyes were cold and terrifying-not the way a father should look at his child, more like a stranger? Or even an enemy?


    Lysander didn''t understand, but instinctively moved to shield his little brother.


    "Dad?"


    Soon after, Eugene was sent away from the family estate. His father told him Eugene was sick, and so was their mother-they needed to be treated separately.


    If Mom was sick, there was nothing to be done.


    Eleven-year-old Lysander epted the exnation, but he often visited the house where Eugene stayed, waggling his finger to make the babyugh.


    "Grow up soon, little brother. Once you and Mom are better, we''ll all live together again."


    ***


    Years passed.


    One afternoon, Felicity was in unusually good spirits, resting on a sunlit garden chair. Thirteen-year-old Lysandery with his head in herp, listening to her tell stories, her gentle voice weaving dreams.


    The warmth of the sun, the peace andfort-he felt himself drifting to sleep.


    Suddenly, he remembered his little brother, now two years old. Thest time he''d visited, Eugene wouldn''t stop crying until Lysander showed him a photo of their mom.


    Why couldn''t they all live together, he wondered? Mom seemed well. Eugene too. Didn''t his brother miss their mom, just as much as he did?


    "Mom?" Lysander looked up at her pale, beautiful face, giving her hand a soft shake. "I talked to Eugene''s nanny. She said he''s all better now. Can hee home? He really misses you."


    Felicity''s expression froze, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What did you say?" "Eugene, Mom! You haven''t seen him in so long. He''s two now, and he has the prettiest green eyes."


    Suddenly-thud! The storybook crashed down on his head. Stunned, Lysander touched his forehead. His fingers came away red with blood.


    It stung.


    Mom... hit me?


    Before he could even process what was happening, the woman who''d just been reading him gentle stories twisted into a screaming banshee.


    "What did you say?! Green eyes? That thing is a monster! A monster!"


    "He''s not my child! He''s not! I never had that child, never! Monster, monster! Keep them away! They''re all monsters!"


    She swept a hand across the table, sending tea and china crashing to the ground, and slipped, falling onto a pile of shattered ss. Blood spattered everywhere.


    Her eyes went dull and lifeless, her voice a whisper of death.


    "You''re all monsters. Monsters."


    The events of that day were etched into Lysander''s memory like scars carved into flesh-haunting him, night after night, with nightmares he could never escape.