Mi Hermano???
Vida was still deeply asleep when the low growl of a car rolling into the garage dragged her out of it.
Her eyes opened sluggishly. She craned her neck toward the window, blinking against the pale early light.
“What’s a black BMW M4 doing at the house…” she mumbled, still half-drowned in sleep. Cars were the one thing her brain could identify even when the rest of her was offline.
She let her head sink back into the pillow.
Then her eyes flew open.
Wait.
A black BMW?
Vida jolted upright and looked again. And there he was, standing in the weak morning sun like he belonged to it. Shades on. The kind of presence that made a quiet house feel smaller.
Ivan.
Six years. Six whole years and he still looked… dangerous. Not in the loud way. In the controlled, polished, don’t-touch-what-you-don’t-understand way.
Vida scrambled out of bed, yanking her pyjama pants over her hips, she’d been sleeping in just her panties and she wasn’t about to greet her brother like she’d wandered out of a scandal.
Smiling, excitement bubbling up so hard it felt like it might burst through her ribs, she rushed out of her room and down the stairs, skipping steps two at a time until she was almost at the bottom.
Their mother, Marina, was already at the front door.
Marina opened it with both hands, emotion written all over her face like she couldn’t hold it in.
Ivan walked in without hesitating, suitcase rolling behind him, sunglasses still on even though morning hadn’t fully arrived. Lavender polish, marble, and silence greeted him like they’d been waiting.
The house still smelled the same.
Vida rushed forward, arms already opening.
“Herma....” she started, stretching toward him for a hug.
Ivan’s posture was cold and distant it stopped her mid-step.
The air between them snapped tight.
“…nooo,” Vida drew the word out like she couldn’t believe it, her arms slowly lowering as she froze in place.
[Hermano- brother]
Ivan removed his shades slowly, His eyes lifted to her and paused. He hasn't stepped foot in this house for six years and his little sister vida wasn’t fourteen anymore.
Something flickered across his face, just once, before it locked back into stone.
“Vida.”
Not Mina. Not sweetheart. Not anything soft like he use to call her
Just her name.
Marina hovered near the door, emotional, desperate to fill the space he was draining with his silence.
“You’re here early…” she said, voice almost pleading.
Ivan stepped past Vida as if she were furniture that had been moved slightly out of place. The suitcase wheels clicked over the marble.
He smelled like expensive cologne and winter air, like airports and cities that didn’t forgive you for being young.
He walked toward the living room as if he’d never left. As if nothing had shifted.
Marina touched his arm. “I cleaned up your old room.”
He nodded once, and turned heading upstairs with his bag.
“I’m not staying long,” he said over his shoulders.
It landed like a lie even before it finished echoing. Their father, Maxim didn’t send him here for a visit. Not the kind of man Maxim was.
Vida stood there and watched him go up the stairs.
And when his door jammed closed, The sound punched through the house.
Well. That was a hell of a welcome home, brother. Vida thought.
The sarcasm tried to save her pride, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She turned to Marina, expecting… something. An explanation perhaps.
Marina only shook her head and mumbled, “He’s probably tired from the journey,” before disappearing toward her room, leaving Vida in the living room like she’d been forgotten in the middle of her own shock.
For a moment, Vida didn’t move.
Then she finally forced her legs to work and went upstairs, back to her room. She shut the door and leaned against it, staring at nothing.
“What on earth was that?” she asked the empty air.
Six years. And this was what she got?
Had she done something wrong? Was it the distance? Was it Russia? Was it her?
Or was it simply Ivan, older now, harder, and unwilling to pretend.
She swallowed, dragging a breath into her lungs like she could breathe the awkwardness out.
Maybe Mum was right. Maybe he was exhausted. Maybe she was overreacting.
Vida pushed herself off the door and went into the bathroom to shower, because life didn’t pause just because her brother had returned like a ghost.
Second year. First semester.
She couldn’t mess it up.
In less than an hour she was dressed, ready, and downstairs again, pulled by routine into the kitchen where the smell of butter and onions filled the air.
Marina stood at the stove, flipping eggs.
“Mum,” Vida said carefully, “where’s Ivan?”
Marina didn’t turn immediately.
“He left early,” she said. “Said he had to complete some transfer documentation at the university.”
Vida blinked. “He just got here.”
Marina shrugged lightly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Your father already handled most of it. He just needed to finalize things.”
Finalize.
Vida’s stomach tightened around the word.
“He didn’t even eat,” Marina added with a sigh.
Vida rolled her eyes.
Of course he didn’t eat.
Of course he didn’t sit at the table.
Of course he didn’t look at her twice.
Marina studied Vida’s face for a moment, long enough to confirm what she already knew.
“ Vida....” she said, “Russia wasn’t… soft on him.”
She turned back to the stove.
“And you shouldn’t take it personally.”
Which meant she knew Vida was.
The eggs sizzled louder in the silence.
Vida’s phone buzzed on the counter.
Peter:
Oyaaa madam, are you coming or are you writing exam in your house today?
Marina slid a plate toward Vida. “Eat something before you go.”
Vida picked up her phone and typed a quick reply.
'Coming.'
She hit send to Peter, then slipped the device back into her bag.
“I'm good mum,” she said, forcing her voice to sound lighter than she felt. “I'll see you later then.”
Marina only hummed at the stove.
“Bye, Mum,” Vida added.
She reached across the table, grabbed her car key, and headed out before the silence could grab her first.
