Chapter 7 - THE HALF BROTHER AT THE LIBRARY DOOR
Noah met Ethan in a university library.
Not at Vincent's mansion.
Not during a family dinner.
Not in front of lawyers.
A library.
Ethan had written him a brief email after the Harvard symposium.
Hi, Noah.
My name is Ethan Reynolds. I think we have the same father.
I know this is strange. I don't expect anything from you.
I just wanted you to know I'd be willing to talk if you ever wanted to.
Noah ignored it for three days.
Then five.
Then a week.
Finally, he answered.
Coffee. Public place. No parents.
Ethan replied within minutes.
Agreed.
Now they sat opposite each other in a quiet café near the library.
Two eighteen-year-old boys.
Same dark hair.
Same sharp eyebrows.
Different childhoods.
Different lives.
Ethan wore an expensive watch.
Noah wore a faded university sweatshirt.
Both looked nervous.
For several minutes, they discussed ordinary things.
Classes.
Books.
Dormitories.
The cafeteria food.
Then Ethan asked, “How long have you been interested in mathematics?”
Noah smiled faintly.
“Since I was little.”
“I'm terrible at it.”
“Really?”
“Spectacularly.”
Noah laughed.
For the first time, the conversation felt natural.
Ethan leaned back.
“My strength is literature.”
Noah raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously?”
“Writing. History. Languages.”
“Interesting.”
Ethan smiled.
“My father always wanted me to study business.”
Noah looked up.
“Vincent?”
Ethan nodded.
“Yeah.”
A quiet moment passed.
Then Noah asked, “What was he like?”
Ethan's expression changed.
“My dad?”
Noah nodded.
Ethan considered the question.
“He was busy.”
Noah looked down.
“But he showed up when it mattered.”
“What did he do?”
Ethan smiled sadly.
“He taught me to drive. Took me fishing. Came to school events when he could.”
Noah swallowed.
Ethan continued.
“He's strict. Sometimes difficult. But he always told me he loved me.”
Noah looked toward the window.
For a moment, Ethan regretted answering.
Then Noah whispered, “That sounds nice.”
Ethan's throat tightened.
He looked down.
“I'm sorry.”
Noah turned.
“For what?”
“For having that when you didn't.”
Noah studied him.
Then shook his head.
“That's not your fault.”
Ethan's eyes filled.
“My mother—”
“I know.”
Noah interrupted gently.
“I know she did things. But you didn't.”
Ethan swallowed.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Noah smiled faintly.
“Can I ask something weird?”
Ethan laughed nervously.
“Sure.”
“Do you like pineapple on pizza?”
Ethan stared.
Then smiled.
“Absolutely not.”
Noah laughed.
“Good.”
Ethan grinned.
“Why?”
“Because I was worried we'd disagree about everything.”
They laughed.
Then Ethan asked, “Do you want to meet again?”
Noah considered the question.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked relieved.
“Good.”
They finished their coffee.
Walked toward the library.
And exchanged phone numbers.
Before leaving, Ethan stopped.
“Noah?”
He turned.
“Yeah?”
“I don't know what this makes us.”
Noah smiled faintly.
“Brothers, apparently.”
Ethan laughed through tears.
“Apparently.”
Noah held out his hand.
Ethan looked at it.
Then shook it.
An awkward gesture.
Almost formal.
But neither wanted to let go.
For eighteen years, one boy had grown up believing he was an only child.
The other had grown up believing his father was dead.
Now they were standing outside a library with the possibility of becoming family.
May you like
And for the first time, neither felt responsible for the mistakes that had kept them apart.
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