Greg was the sole reason I was there. He is my fiancé. Or was, based on how things turn out today.
He enjoys riding motorcycles and participating in charity rides. I gave in when he pleaded with me to accompany him to this event, mainly because of the funnel cake and sunshine. I assumed it would be innocuous. Men wearing leather vests, loud engines, and sunglasses that make them appear tougher than they actually are.
Looking across the barricade and meeting the eyes of the one person I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade was something I hadn’t anticipated.
Nico, my brother.
wearing a uniform from the police.
I went cold. It took me a moment to realize that it was indeed him. He had that similar sideways smile, but he was plainly older, with a rounder face. We were both screaming in our grandmother’s driveway when I last saw him. That evening, he departed and never returned. Not when Dad passed away. Not after I received my degree. Not even when I sent him a message to check on him during the pandemic.
And suddenly, as if nothing had happened, he was laughing with a motorcyclist wearing an orange jersey.
Without even thinking, I started to move in his direction. Greg saw and made an attempt to stop me, but I dismissed him.
I required clarification.
Nico turned his head and saw me before I could get close.
He stopped smiling.
Then he did something that surprised me. He took a step forward, lifting the blockade rope himself, rather than fleeing or turning away. He moved deliberately, almost uncomfortably. As if sensing the tension crackling in the air, those around us slowed down and looked at one another.
His voice sounded scratchy and low, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time, when he said, “Rosa.” “You’re present.”
I crossed my arms across my chest and said, “Yeah.” I was afraid my heart may burst through my ribs since it was beating so rapidly. “I also didn’t think you would show up.”
We were silent for a time. Only the two of us remained standing there in the bright sun as the sounds of the crowd receded into the distance. Nico broke the silence at last. “Look, I understand your likely thoughts. Can we, however, speak? Somewhere more peaceful?
I paused. There was a part of me that wanted to yell at him and ask him why he had left us so long ago. The quieter, more optimistic portion, however, wanted to listen to him. Perhaps he had a motive. Perhaps he wasn’t the self-centered idiot I had persuaded myself he was.
I murmured, “Okay,” and motioned for him to take the lead. I couldn’t help but observe how different he appeared as we strolled. The careless adolescent who would start fights with anybody who disagreed with him and race automobiles late at night was no more. This Nico moved almost gently, as if he was attempting to avoid drawing attention to himself.
The scent of fried dough blended with the subtle tang of oil as we found ourselves behind a food truck. Nico removed his cap and ran a hand through his short hair while leaning against the truck’s side. He said softly, “I don’t blame you for hating me.” “Hell, for a long time, I detested myself.”
“What are you discussing?” I folded my arms more tightly and requested. “Nico, why did you leave? Do you know what it was like when you simply vanished after Mom and Dad split up?
He looked away, winced. “I didn’t go away with the intention of harming you. I was afraid, so I went. I’m afraid I’ll ruin everything even more than I already have. He stopped and let out a deep breath. “You do recall the altercation with Grandma? She was upset with me for missing school, but that wasn’t all. She discovered that I had hung out with some nasty folks. Drugs, loan sharks—things I shouldn’t have handled. And I fled rather than stay and drag you and Dad into my mess.
Stunned, I gazed at him. I had thought he had moved on because he didn’t give a damn all these years. However, I felt as though the earth was moving beneath me when he spoke otherwise. “What kept you from telling me?” I muttered. “We could have assisted you.”
Nico gave a headshake. “No, Rosa. You had no right to be drawn into that world. Not one of you did. It wasn’t easy, but I got out, cleaned myself, and joined the academy. And ever then, I’ve questioned whether I made the correct decision.
Greg showed there before I could reply, his face crimson with rage. “What’s happening, Rosa? Who is this man?
“This is Nico,” I said, making a feeble gesture. “My sibling.”
Greg’s mouth clenched. “Your sibling? The person who abandoned your family?
I yelled, defensive, “It’s complicated.” “Look, we need to finish this conversation later,” I said, turning back to Nico. By themselves.
Nico put his hat back on and nodded. He handed me a card with his number on it and stated simply, “Call me.” Then, as I stood there with Greg staring at me with daggers, he turned and walked back toward the crowd.
The remainder of the day flew by. I was unable to concentrate on anything but what Nico had said, and Greg hardly spoke to me at all. The tension between us was intolerable by the time we arrived home. I came to the realization that Greg was partially correct when he eventually lost it and accused me of being too willing to forgive someone who had given me so much suffering.
“Alright, I understand.” I responded with a yell. He departed. He caused us pain. But Greg, he returned. And perhaps it’s worthwhile to discover why.
After that, Greg cooled down, which surprised me. Even though he disagreed with me, he respected my choice to contact Nico. We met at a little diner downtown when I contacted him the following morning.
Nico shared the rest of his story with me over coffee. How he had spent years working undercover, breaking into violent gangs to bring them down. How he had almost lost himself and lost friends along the road. And how, in spite of everything, he had always monitored me remotely to make sure I was okay.
I had tears running down my cheeks by the end. I felt like I had my brother back for the first time in a long time.
Months later, Nico and I completely reestablished our relationship. Although it wasn’t flawless—we quarreled, we wept, and we laughed—it was genuine. Eventually, Greg also changed his mind after observing my transformation and recognizing that forgiveness is a strength rather than a weakness.
I’ve learned from life that people aren’t always who they seem to be. The people who have harmed us the most occasionally have invisible wounds. Additionally, allowing someone to clarify themselves might occasionally mend wounds you were unaware existed.
Therefore, take a step back if you have ever been abandoned or betrayed. Do you think there is space for grace? Because choosing peace is what it means to let go of resentment, not forgetting.
Please tell others about this tale if it spoke to you. Let’s share compassion and empathy, one tale at a time. ❤️
