Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One: The Integration
David moved into the penthouse two weeks later.
It was supposed to be temporary—just until he found his own place, just until he got back on his feet. But somehow, temporary became permanent. His room filled with books and photographs and the small, comfortable clutter of a life being rebuilt.
The twins were thrilled.
Lily knocked on his door every morning, asking if he wanted breakfast. Leo brought him books he thought he might like, leaving them outside his door with notes attached: "You might enjoy this one. It's about black holes."
David read every book. He ate every breakfast. He laughed at Lily's jokes. He asked Leo questions about science. He helped Lina with the dishes. He walked Sprinkles. He fed Sky. He cleaned Sunflower's cage.
He became part of the family.
---
Victor visited every Sunday.
He sat at the table, quiet and watchful, watching his not-son build a life he had never been part of. He did not push. He did not demand. He simply... showed up.
David watched him back.
"You don't have to come every week," David said one Sunday, as they sat in the garden.
Victor was quiet for a moment. "I want to."
"Why?"
Victor thought about the question. "Because I missed too much already. I don't want to miss more."
David's eyes filled with tears.
"You're not my father," he said.
Victor nodded slowly. "I know."
"But you could have been."
Victor's voice cracked. "I wanted to be."
David reached across the table and took his hand.
"I know," he said. "I know."
---
They started doing things together.
Victor took David to a baseball game. David took Victor to a museum. They talked about everything and nothing—their childhoods, their regrets, their hopes for the future.
Lina watched them from a distance and felt her heart swell.
They were not father and son. Not by blood. Not by law.
But they were something.
Something that mattered.
---
The twins asked questions.
"Why doesn't Uncle David call Victor 'Dad'?" Lily asked one night.
Lina sat on her bed, thinking about the question.
"Because it's complicated," she said. "Victor isn't his real father. His real father died before they could meet."
Lily's eyes filled with tears. "That's so sad."
Lina pulled her into her arms. "It is sad. But David has people who love him. Victor loves him. We love him. That's what matters."
Lily nodded slowly.
"Can I call him Uncle David?" she asked.
Lina smiled. "You already do."
Lily hugged her. "I know. I just wanted to make sure it was okay."
Lina held her daughter.
"It's more than okay," she said. "It's perfect."
---
Leo asked different questions.
"Does David want to find his real father's other children?" he asked. "His half-siblings?"
Lina was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. I haven't asked him."
Leo looked at her with his serious gray eyes. "You should."
Lina nodded slowly. "Maybe I should."
---
Lina asked David that night.
They sat in the garden, the stars overhead, the city quiet.
"Do you want to find them?" Lina asked. "Thomas's other children. Your half-siblings."
David was quiet for a long moment.
"I don't know," he said. "Part of me wants to. Part of me is afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
David thought about the question. "Afraid they won't want me. Afraid they'll blame me for their father's mistakes. Afraid I'll open old wounds that should stay closed."
Lina took his hand.
"You don't have to decide tonight," she said. "You can take your time."
David squeezed her hand.
"I know," he said. "But I feel like I've been taking my time my whole life. Maybe it's time to stop waiting."
---
David wrote a letter to Thomas's other children.
He did it carefully, thoughtfully, with Lina's help. He introduced himself. He explained who he was. He told them he didn't want anything except to know them.
I know this is strange. I know this is a surprise. I'm sorry for that.
But your father was my father too. And I'd like to know the people who shared him with me.
If you're willing.
—David
He mailed the letter and waited.
---
The reply came three weeks later.
It was from a woman named Sarah, Thomas's oldest daughter.
Dear David,
We knew about you. Our mother told us, after our father died. She said he had made a mistake. She said he was sorry. She said he loved us, and he loved you too.
We've wondered about you. Where you were. What you were like. Whether you were happy.
We'd like to meet you.
—Sarah
David read the letter twice.
Then he set it down and buried his face in his hands.
Lina sat beside him.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
David looked up. His eyes were red, his face wet with tears.
"I'm going to meet them," he said. "I need to know."
---
End of Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One