Page 124 of The Silence Between

“Really?” Diego sighed, but Ethan handed him a beer anyway, the gesture clearly expectant.

Diego straightened his shoulders, looking more like a college graduate than I was prepared for. “Thanks for coming, everyone. And thanks to Leo and Ethan for... you know, everything.” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn't be here without you guys. And I don't just mean the tuition help.”

The simple acknowledgment hit me harder than any elaborate speech could have. I blinked rapidly, determined not to embarrass him by getting emotional, though I caught Mari discreetly wiping at her eyes before returning to a text conversation on her phone.

As the celebration continued around us, I found myself watching from a slight distance, struck by the bittersweetness of the moment. Pride in Diego's achievement, absolutely. Joy in his well-earned recognition. But also a tug of something like grief, not for anything lost, exactly, but for time's relentless forward motion. My little brother wasn't little anymore. Soon he'd be heading to his first professional job, following in Mari's footsteps, finding his own path.

Exactly as it should be. Exactly as I'd fought so hard to ensure was possible. But still, it ached in that peculiar way that only bittersweet transitions can.

Ethan appeared at my side, silently offering a fresh drink. He didn't speak, didn't need to. After five years together, he could read my emotional weather as easily as I could read his.

“He'll be fine,” he said finally, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“I know,” I replied. “Better than fine. He's going to be amazing.”

“So will you,” Ethan nudged my shoulder gently. “Empty nest syndrome already? Sophie will still be in and out during breaks.”

I laughed, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. “True. And she makes enough noise for three kids when she's editing her films at 2 AM.”

I watched as Mari pulled her phone from her pocket, checked a message, and frowned slightly before typing a response. She caught me watching and gave a small shrug. “Mom,” she mouthed, holding up the phone before tucking it away.

She still maintained minimal contact with our mother, serving as the family's occasional liaison. The arrangement worked for everyone: Mari kept tabs on her recovery from a safe distance, the rest of us were spared the emotional complications, and our mother had the connection she needed without the risk of disrupting our lives again. The last update had been simple: she and her husband had renewed their vows in a small ceremony at their church, bought a used RV, and planned to travel the Southwest for a while. As far away from us as geography could place them. It felt like closure, in its way.

Across the yard, Sophie was engaged in animated conversation with Eleanor, the eighteen-year-old and the elderly bookstore owner finding common ground in their discussions of visual storytelling despite the decades between them. Mari rejoined Diego, both of them unmistakably adult as they chatted with his economics professor about job prospects and industry connections. The gathering had expanded beyond our immediate family to include the community we'd built over years: neighbors who'd helped during tough times, teachers who'd championed my siblings, colleagues who'd become friends.

I leaned against Ethan, allowing myself to absorb the fullness of the moment: the pride and the sadness, the joy and the anxiety, the ending and the beginning all wrapped together in the messy package of real life.

“We did good,” I said quietly, echoing his words from moving day.

He pressed a kiss to my temple, his arm wrapping around my waist. “We did. All of us, together.”

And that was the truth of it, not a single heroic effort but a collective journey, not one person carrying everything but a network supporting each other, not perfect strength but perfect willingness to be both vulnerable and brave as the situation required.

The family we'd built wasn't the one I'd imagined when I first took custody of three siblings as a teenager. It was messier, more complicated, and infinitely more resilient. It included Ethan, who'd started as my high school sweetheart, become my unexpected rescuer, and grown into my partner in every sense. It included Eleanor and her bookstore, the teachers and mentors who'd believed in us, the friends who'd shown up when it mattered most.

It was, in every way that counted, better than anything I could have planned.

* * *

The night skystretched above our back porch, stars emerging as the summer evening cooled. Crickets sang from the yard, and somewhere down the street a dog barked half-heartedly. After the excitement of Diego's graduation celebration, the quiet felt welcome, a chance to decompress and simply be.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Ethan said, his voice soft in the darkness.

I smiled, leaning back in my chair. “Inflation's hit the thought market pretty hard. Might cost you a dollar now.”

“Highway robbery,” he replied, but his hand found mine in the space between our chairs, warm and solid and real.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that only comes after years of knowing someone deeply. When I finally spoke, it was about the practical matters that always followed celebrations.

“Diego's got three job interviews lined up next week,” I said. “I think he's leaning toward the startup, even though the corporate benefits would be better.”

“He's young. Now's the time to take those risks,” Ethan replied. “Besides, the startup's focusing on sustainable energy solutions. That aligns better with his values.”

“And Sophie's internship with that documentary filmmaker starts next month. She seems nervous but excited.”

“As she should be. It's a big opportunity. Her portfolio's impressive, though, she'll do great.”

The easy collaboration still amazed me sometimes: how we could tackle problems together, each bringing different strengths to the table, neither of us having to carry everything alone. A far cry from the days when I'd believed asking for help was weakness and accepting support was failure.

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