Chapter 56:
When Family Isn't Just Blood

"May I sit here?"

Olivia stood by the table, her voice softer than she intended. Harry looked up from his laptop, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable - no warmth, no irritation, just a quiet sort of distance that made her chest ache.

"Sure," he said simply.

She slid into the seat across from him, setting her bag gently beside her. The café was quiet around them, soft music drifting in the background, but between them hung a silence that felt heavy and fragile all at once. His fingers moved steadily over the keyboard, his gaze returning to the screen, and she could feel it - he was deliberately keeping his space, keeping her at arm's length. It was pure coincidence that she had walked in and spotted him sitting alone in that far corner. Or maybe it was just her heart hoping for one more chance to be seen.

"How's everything at the company?" she asked, finally breaking through the quiet.

He paused, looked up, and his clear green eyes met her blue ones again - that familiar pull, that strange twisting in her chest that never quite went away no matter how much time passed.

"It's doing well," he said. "And I'd like to think I'm doing a pretty good job managing things."

She offered a small, tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. You are doing amazing, she wanted to say. I've always believed in you. But the words died somewhere in her throat.

Why am I still trying? she wondered silently. Why am I still reaching for a hand that has already let go? How much more of this does it take before walking away finally feels okay?

It was a question she'd asked herself a thousand times, never finding an answer. Andrei had asked her something similar once, a long time ago - "When will you realize you're worth more than waiting for someone who never comes?" But she hadn't known then, and she didn't know now. Because right now, it felt less like she was waiting for him, and more like she was just waiting for herself to finally get tired. Waiting until her heart had nothing left to give. Until one morning she woke up and realized she had finally had enough.

"Olivia?"

His voice pulled her back to the present moment. She blinked, realizing she'd been staring at him without seeing him.

"I'm sorry," he said gently.

She swallowed hard. If only a simple apology could stitch back everything that had been torn apart. If only those two words were enough to heal the years of silence and distance and heartache. But they weren't. They never had been.

"For what?" she asked, and even to her own ears, her voice sounded small and hollow. It was a foolish question - she knew there were a thousand things he could be sorry for. But a tiny, desperate part of her needed to hear him say it. Needed to know that somewhere, deep down, he regretted letting her go. That somewhere, in all his confusion, he had once truly loved her.

"For everything," he started, his voice softer now, his gaze searching hers as if he was struggling to find the right words. He took a breath, about to continue - but the sharp, familiar ring of her phone cut through the moment.

She glanced down at the screen, and her heart gave a frightened leap. Annalise.

She wouldn't deny it - she had grown close to his family over these past few years. Close didn't even begin to cover it. Amy, Andrei's mother, had welcomed her like a daughter. Their home had become the place she felt safest in the whole world - the warmth, the laughter, the Sunday lunches that always ran too long, the way Amy would squeeze her hand and say "You're family, Olivia. Never forget that." It was the kind of home she had never known growing up - no raised voices, no cold silences, just... love. And now seeing Annalise's name glowing on her phone screen, she knew instantly something was very wrong.

"Hello? Annalise?"

"Unnie Olivia..." The girl's voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, and Olivia was already on her feet.

"Anna? What's happened? Tell me."

"It's Mum," she sobbed, the words breaking through tears. "We brought her to the hospital earlier. She's been asleep for five hours now... and Drei and Dad won't tell me what's going on. They keep saying to wait, but I'm scared, Unnie. I'm so scared."

"Anna, listen to me - take a deep breath. I'm coming. I'm on my way right now, okay? Just hold on for me."

Olivia was already shoving her phone into her bag, scrambling to gather her things.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, standing up too, his British accent grounding and familiar.

"Yes," she said, not bothering to explain further. "Someone needs me. I have to go."

And with that, she turned and walked away - not because she was running from him this time, but because someone else needed her more. Because Andrei wasn't just someone she knew. He was the one who had been there every single time Harry had left her broken. The one who had sat up with her through the long nights. The one who had shared his family with her when she had none of her own to turn to. And now it was her turn.

The hospital corridors stretched endlessly, cold and sterile-smelling. Olivia didn't care - she hurried past strangers, past waiting rooms, her footsteps quick and urgent. Amy had become her mother too, in all those years when her own home felt like a stranger's house. She couldn't lose her. She just couldn't.

She rounded the corner to find him there.

Andrei sat on the bench outside the private room, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low, hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer. He looked smaller than usual. Defeated. Lost.

She slowed her steps, her heart aching. She walked over quietly and sat beside him - close enough that their shoulders almost touched, but not invading his space. Just... there. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet between them wasn't empty anymore. It was heavy with fear and worry and things that didn't need to be said.

Then his voice came - quiet, rough, trembling.

"When was the last time your family actually felt like home, Ker?"

She looked at him - really looked at him - at the way his shoulders shook just slightly, at the dark circles under his eyes, at the exhaustion written into every line of his face.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, her voice soft. "My house was never a home. Not really. Not the way yours is."

"I don't believe that," he murmured, lifting his head just enough to glance at her. "Family isn't just blood, Olivia. It's the people who show up. The ones who stay. The ones who love you even on the days you're hard to love. Those people are your family too."

His words settled over her, soft but undeniable. And suddenly, it hit her - he was right. She did have a family. She had Nanny Cora, who had raised her when her own parents were too busy fighting to notice she existed. She had Kathalina - her best friend since they were teenagers, the one who had held her through every heartbreak, every disappointment, every lonely night. They were her people. They were her home. And tears blurred her vision, hot and stinging, spilling over and running freely down her cheeks. She hadn't realized how much she'd taken them for granted. How busy she'd been looking in the wrong direction for what she already had.

"Mum told me about her condition the last time we were all together at dinner," Andrei said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "She said she wanted us to have one last happy memory before everything changed. And I didn't know... I didn't realize it would be the last time we'd all be together laughing around that table."

His voice cracked completely then. "It feels like the walls are closing in, Ker. I'm scared. I don't want to lose her."

Olivia's heart shattered for him. He had been her strength for so long. He had held her up when she couldn't stand on her own. And now he was breaking, and she would be his strength.

She reached out and gently pulled him toward her, wrapping her arms around his trembling shoulders. He leaned into her immediately, burying his face against her shoulder, and his tears soaked through the fabric of her blouse. She didn't care. She just held him tighter, rubbing slow, comforting circles on his back, letting him fall apart because she would be the one to catch him.

"I'm scared too," she whispered into his hair. "But I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

It was the very same line he had spoken to her a hundred times before - on the bad days, on the lonely nights, when the world felt too heavy to carry alone. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." And now it was her turn.