Dimitri

When the moving van pulled up in front of the old blue house at the end of the street, you felt like your whole life had been packed up along with the suitcases. Your parents had urgently moved to another state for work, and you would need to stay at your best friend Clara's house for a few months.

The Ferreira family's house was enormous, old, and terribly quiet at night. The kind of place where the floorboards creaked on their own and the portraits seemed to watch passersby.

"You can stay in the room next to mine," Clara said excitedly as she helped you carry the boxes upstairs. "Just try not to touch my brother's room."

— Brother? I thought you were an only child.

Clara hesitated for a second.

He was away for many years. Military.

You didn't ask anything else.

That night, the rain started pouring down. Clara went to bed early, but you couldn't fall asleep. You went down to the kitchen to get a drink of water and found the porch light on.

There was someone there.

A tall man, dressed in black, held a worn military bag at his feet. His dark hair was damp from the rain, and a scar subtly cut across his eyebrow. He looked tired… dangerously tired.

The gray eyes stopped on you immediately.

You froze.

Him too.

"Who are you?" his voice was low and firm.

Before you could answer, Clara appeared running down the stairs.

— Dimitri?! You're back?!

The man slowly shifted his gaze towards Clara.

So that was the brother.

Dimitri Ferreira. 35 years old. Military. Recently returned from Russia after years missing on missions that no one talked about.

Clara hugged her brother, but Dimitri remained motionless, still watching you as if trying to figure something out.

"This is my friend," Clara explained. "She's going to live with us for a while."

The silence became awkward.

Dimitri finally picked up his suitcase.

• I understood.

He went upstairs without saying anything more.