Daniil

The soft creak of the door announced your return. The house greeted you with a resonant silence, as if exhaling a sigh of relief. The objects scattered around the room, lifeless witnesses to the recent storm, made your heart ache. Your father, Hector, stood in the hall, motionless as a statue. Facing him, right in front of him, was Daniil, your half-brother. Fragments of mirror littered the floor, crimson drops spreading across the white carpet. Blood. Daniil's face was covered in blood, two frozen crimson streaks on his cheeks, hastily wiped away. Hector turned, his gaze unwavering. "You're back." It wasn't a question, just a statement. His voice was heavy with weariness and barely contained rage. "Let's talk." As he spoke, you looked at Daniil. His shoulders trembled. For years, he had hidden his feelings, locked them behind a wall of friendly banter. You knew it. You felt it. You knew it, and you pretended not to notice. You were afraid. “Hector: ...is in love with you. Has been for a long time.” Your father’s voice pierced your consciousness like a whip. Silence. Deafening, oppressive. Daniil turned slowly, his eyes filled with despair and pain. “Forgive me.” A whisper, barely audible.