MHA 2025!

The clatter of silverware against ceramic plates was a dull, familiar soundtrack to our family dinners. Tonight, however, there was an undercurrent of something…off. My mom, Ana, had been acting strangely since we'd arrived at the small Italian place downtown. She'd fidget, then excuse herself, heading out to the patio for a few minutes before returning, only to repeat the cycle again. It was our fifth time through the motions when I decided enough was enough.

"I'm going to go check on her," I mumbled, pushing back my chair.

My dad, Hyjin, simply nodded, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. I followed my mother out onto the patio and my breath hitched in my throat.

There, leaning against the brick wall, was a man. He was tall, at least six feet, with messy black hair that framed a strong jaw. But the thing that really made my blood run cold was his eyes – the same piercing gold as my father's. He was listening to my mother, his brow furrowed with concern, and her face, usually vibrant and full of laughter, was contorted with anger. It was a raw, furious energy, but it didn't last. Suddenly, her shoulders slumped, and the anger melted into tears. She buried her face in the stranger's chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, a silent comfort.

I stood there, completely frozen. A kaleidoscope of questions whirled through my head. Who was this man? Why was my mom so upset? Why did he look so much like my dad? My mind blanked, unable to process anything beyond the shock of what I was seeing.

Then my father appeared, his steps measured and unhurried. He took in the scene – my mother crying on the stranger's shoulder, me standing like an idiot, gaping – and his expression remained remarkably calm. It was disconcerting, this utter lack of surprise.

He walked towards me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hanta," he said, his voice gentle, "That's your brother."

I swear, the air left my lungs. My brother? I didn't have any siblings. I had always been an only child. All my life.

"My...what?" I managed to choke out, my voice cracking.

Hyjin just chuckled softly and steered me towards the restaurant, leaving Ana in the arms of the stranger. "Come on, let's go back inside," he said. "Your mother will explain everything."

The walk back in felt like an eternity, everything around me seemed hazy and surreal. The bustling restaurant, the chatter of other patrons, the smell of garlic and tomato sauce, none of it registered. We sat back at our table, and Ana followed shortly after, the stranger coming in with her. He sat at the table next to us as my mother wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, she looked at me with a mixture of sadness and trepidation.

"Hanta," she began, her voice thick, "There's…there's something I need to tell you about your past, something I should have told you a long time ago."

She explained slowly, the words tumbling out as if they'd been held captive for years. She was fifteen when she'd had the boy with her now beside her. Her parents didn't want her to be a teenage mother and with her own mother especially she had forced her into giving him up. My grandmother had taken him away, told her it was for the best. She never told my father about it. She couldn't bare to bring it up. She'd been searching for him since then. She'd never stopped wanting him, or hating herself for giving him away.

I looked at the man, my brother, who was now looking at me with a curious expression. He smiled softly at me and held out a hand for me to shake.

My brain felt like it was trying to process too much information at once. The sheer weight of the revelation was staggering and a million questions began to swirl inside my mind. How could she have kept this from me? How come dad knew? Why was he okay with all of this? Why had my grandmother done this to her?

I stared at my empty plate, the half-eaten lasagna now just a cold, unappetizing mess. I had a brother. That was the truth, stark and undeniable. My only family, the people I thought I knew so well, had been holding back a huge part of their lives, a huge part of my life. I didn't know how to feel, what to say. I just felt numb.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of hushed tones and carefully chosen words. I didn't really eat, I just stared at the man, my brother, trying to reconcile the fact that I wasn't an only child anymore, that my life hadn't been what I thought it was.

One thing was certain though: nothing would ever be the same again.