You know how sometimes life throws these weird surprises at you? Well, I inherited this old house from my nanright in the middle of the woods. I wanted to go check it out, but Mum always said no. And then I found out why.
Back when I was a kid, we barely ever saw Mums mum. Just a few hazy memories, reallylike, maybe a couple years of visits, and then nothing. It all just stopped.
I never knew why. I was too young to get it at the time, and later, whenever I asked Mum about it, shed just brush me off.
Eventually, I stopped asking. But then, out of the blue, we got the newsNan had passed away. Cant say I was heartbroken or anything, since I barely remembered her. But heres the kickershe left me her house. This little cottage out in the countryside.
Curiosity got the better of me. I figured Id at least go see the place, maybe sell it later. But when I mentioned it to Mum, she went dead quiet.
“Dont go there,” she begged.
“Why not? Whats the big deal?”
“Just dont.”
“Mum, what arent you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Youre lying! Why did you stop talking to Nan? Why wont you ever tell me anything?”
“Please, just trust me on this. Youll regret it if you go. Thats all I can say.”
If anything, that made me *more* determined to go. Too many secrets in this family.
When I finally got there, the house was tucked away in the woods. Brick, a bit run-down, but honestly? Kind of cosy. I crouched downyep, key under the doormat, classic.
I slid it into the lock, turned it slowly, and pushed the door open. Stepped inside. And then I froze.
I was looking around, taking it all in, when my eyes landed on this old framed photo on the wall. I moved closerand my stomach dropped. There was Mum, Dad little me, mustve been about three. And a boy. Maybe ten years old.
I stared at his face. Who *was* he? Why had I never seen him before? My hands were shaking as I dialled Mums number.
“Mum whos the boy in the photo?”
Silence. Long, heavy silence. I thought she wasnt going to answer. Then, a shaky breath.
“You werent supposed to see that,” she whispered. “Thats your older brother.”
I couldnt speak.
“My *brother*?”
And then she told me. Years ago, wed all visited Nan together. I was three, he was ten. We were playing outside while Nan cooked lunch. He climbed a treelost his grip, fell. Landed wrong. Broke his back. They couldnt save him.
After that, Mum blamed Nan. Cut her off completely. Didnt want me anywhere near her, didnt want the past dragging me down.
I stood there in that quiet house, phone in hand, still staring at the photo. At the brother I never knew I had.
