Chapter 252: Before

"The brother who came before all of us."

I repeated Echo’s words, hoping they would make more sense the second time.

They didn’t.

Noah looked equally confused.

"Hold on. We already have a brother who came before us?"

Echo nodded.

"Yes."

"Who?"

Echo glanced toward our mother.

She had been standing quietly near the garden entrance, but the moment he answered, her expression changed.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

And something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

"Mother?"

She looked at me.

"I was hoping you wouldn’t have to remember him today."

I sighed.

"Apparently, that’s not how things work anymore."

She gave me a small, tired smile.

"I suppose not."

Detective Hale glanced at his watch.

"I don’t want to interrupt a family reunion, but could someone explain what’s happening?"

Echo looked at him.

"The room we found was originally built for someone else."

"Who?"

"My oldest brother."

Noah stared.

"Older than you?"

"Much older."

"Older than Adrian?"

Echo nodded.

"Yes."

I looked toward Mother.

"Why have I never heard about him?"

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she walked toward one of the garden benches and sat down.

"Because I made a mistake."

Her voice was quiet.

"And because I spent a very long time pretending it hadn’t happened."

I sat beside her.

Echo remained standing.

Noah joined us, while Lena took the seat on my other side.

Mother looked at all of us.

"Before I created Echo, before Noah, and before the others you eventually came to know..."

She paused.

"There was someone else."

"His name was Cael?"

I asked.

Mother nodded.

"Cael was my first brother."

I exchanged a glance with Noah.

We already knew Cael.

We knew what he had done, why his memories had been erased, and how Adrian had eventually brought him back into the family.

But apparently, there was something we hadn’t understood.

"Then why are you saying he came before Echo?"

Mother looked at me.

"Because the room belonged to someone who existed before Cael."

Silence.

Noah leaned forward.

"Someone even older?"

"Yes."

Mother lowered her eyes.

"He wasn’t created by me. He wasn’t created by Father either."

I frowned.

"Then where did he come from?"

Mother smiled sadly.

"He was there before I understood what it meant to have a family."

Echo finally spoke.

"He was the first person who stayed with her."

Mother nodded.

"He didn’t have a name when I met him."

"Neither did I, at first."

She looked toward the trees.

"But he was different."

"How?"

"He didn’t ask questions."

She smiled faintly.

"He simply sat beside me."

I listened quietly.

"He would spend hours in that room. Sometimes I talked to him. Sometimes we sat together without saying anything."

She paused.

"He never seemed to mind."

Lena gently touched her hand.

"What happened to him?"

Mother looked down.

"I don’t know."

The answer surprised me.

"You don’t know?"

"He left."

"Or perhaps..."

She stopped.

"Perhaps I made him leave."

---

We returned home later that afternoon.

Mother wanted to rest, and Echo seemed perfectly content to sit in the living room with Noah while they discussed everything that had happened since his departure.

I went into my study with Lena.

The moment the door closed, she turned toward me.

"You’re thinking about him."

I nodded.

"Someone existed before Cael."

"And before Echo."

"Apparently."

I sat at my desk.

The Historian’s Notebook was resting beside the black book.

I opened it.

For several seconds, the pages remained blank.

Then a sentence appeared.

The first room was not built to preserve memories.

I frowned.

Another line formed.

It was built to give someone a place to stay.

I read it twice.

Lena leaned over my shoulder.

"That’s different."

"Very."

The notebook continued.

The first occupant never asked to be remembered.

Then the writing stopped.

I turned several pages.

Nothing.

"That’s all?"

Lena smiled.

"Maybe the notebook doesn’t know everything."

I closed it.

"Or maybe someone doesn’t want it to."

She sat on the edge of my desk.

"Do you think your mother remembers him?"

"She remembers enough."

"Then perhaps you should ask her."

I nodded.

Before I could stand, my phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number.

You found the room.

I typed a reply.

Who was the first occupant?

The answer came almost immediately.

Someone who never asked to be called brother.

I stared at the screen.

Another message followed.

You gave him that name anyway.

My fingers went cold.

I looked toward Lena.

She noticed my expression.

"What happened?"

I showed her the messages.

She read them carefully.

"Adrian..."

"I know."

The sender continued.

Ask your mother what happened when he finally said no.

The conversation disappeared.

I sat motionless.

There was only one thing I could think about.

Choice.

---

I found Mother in the kitchen.

She was making tea.

Echo sat at the dining table, carefully examining an old photograph while Noah tried explaining something about modern household appliances.

Neither seemed particularly successful.

I approached Mother.

"Can I ask you something?"

She looked over her shoulder.

"Of course."

"Who was the first person who stayed with you?"

Her hand stopped.

The kettle continued heating.

For a moment, she didn’t speak.

Then she turned off the stove.

"Where did you hear about him?"

"Echo told me."

Mother looked toward the dining table.

Echo had stopped examining the photograph.

He was listening.

I continued.

"Was his name the one you gave him?"

"No."

"Did I give him one?"

Mother closed her eyes.

"Yes."

I waited.

"What happened?"

She placed two cups on the counter.

"He was lonely."

"Or perhaps I was."

She smiled faintly.

"Back then, I didn’t understand the difference."

She carried the cups to the table.

"He spent a long time with us. You liked him."

"How much?"

"Enough to follow him everywhere."

I tried imagining it.

A younger version of myself following an unfamiliar person around.

Mother continued.

"You called him brother."

I looked up.

"Did he accept?"

"At first, he didn’t answer."

She sat down.

"Then one day, he asked what the word meant."

"What did I tell him?"

Mother smiled.

"You told him it meant someone who would stay even when he didn’t have to."

I looked toward Echo.

He was quietly listening now.

Mother continued.

"He thought about it for a long time."

"And?"

"He accepted."

Her smile faded.

"But eventually, he wanted something different."

"What?"

"To leave."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"Because he wanted to know whether he could exist without being needed."

The words settled heavily over the table.

Mother looked down at her hands.

"I didn’t understand."

"I thought he was abandoning us."

"So I asked him to stay."

She paused.

"He said no."

Nobody spoke.

"And I..."

Her voice faltered.

"I didn’t take it well."

Echo lowered the photograph.

"Mother."

She looked at him.

"You don’t have to explain everything."

"I know."

She gave him a grateful smile.

Then she looked back at me.

"I tried to keep him there."

I understood.

Not through force, perhaps.

But through fear.

Through the fear of losing someone she loved.

"What happened afterward?"

"He left."

She looked toward the window.

"And I never saw him again."

---

That evening, I sat outside with Echo.

The garden was quiet.

The others were inside, and Lena had gone to help Mother prepare dinner.

Echo was looking at the sky.

"Do you remember him?"

I asked.

He nodded.

"Some things."

"What was he like?"

"Quiet."

He smiled.

"Very patient."

"Was he kind?"

"Yes."

Echo looked toward the house.

"He was the first person who taught me that staying could be a choice."

I considered that.

"Did he tell you anything else?"

Echo thought for a moment.

"He once told me that leaving didn’t mean you stopped caring."

I looked at him.

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes."

He smiled faintly.

"Otherwise, I would’ve spent my entire existence wondering why everyone eventually leaves."

I laughed quietly.

"That’s surprisingly reasonable."

"I’ve had time to think."

He turned toward me.

"Adrian."

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember giving him that name?"

I shook my head.

"No."

Echo nodded.

"I didn’t think so."

"Do you?"

He looked toward the garden.

Then he spoke the name.

"Sol."

The moment he said it, something inside me shifted.

A small memory surfaced.

A quiet room.

A boy sitting beside the window.

Sunlight falling across his face.

Me standing in front of him, holding a small piece of paper.

I couldn’t remember the conversation.

But I remembered the smile.

And the name.

"Sol..."

I whispered.

Echo nodded.

"That’s what you called him."

My eyes widened.

"Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"Because you weren’t ready."

He shrugged.

"And because I wanted to remember him myself."

I looked toward the house.

"Do you know where he went?"

"No."

"Then how are we supposed to find him?"

Echo smiled.

"I don’t think we’re supposed to."

I frowned.

"What?"

"He wanted to leave."

"Perhaps we should respect that."

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I laughed softly.

"You’re right."

Echo leaned back.

For a while, we simply sat together.

Then he spoke again.

"There’s something else."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Sol didn’t leave because Mother asked him to stay."

"Then why?"

Echo’s expression became serious.

"Because someone came looking for him."

My smile faded.

"Who?"

"I don’t know."

He looked toward the dark garden.

"But before he left, he told me something."

"What?"

Echo turned toward me.

"He said that if you ever remembered his name..."

"...you shouldn’t follow him."

I stared at him.

"Why?"

Echo didn’t answer immediately.

Then he quietly said,

"Because he was afraid you’d choose him over everyone else."

My phone vibrated.

An unknown message.

He still remembers the promise.

Another followed.

But he doesn’t know whether you do.

I looked at Echo.

He hadn’t seen the messages.

He was still staring at the sky.

And for the first time since his return, I realized something.

Sol wasn’t simply another forgotten member of our family.

He was someone who had made a choice to leave.

And perhaps the most important thing I could do for him...

Was respect it.

I put my phone away.

Tomorrow, I would ask Mother for everything she remembered.

But I wouldn’t go looking for Sol just because I had finally remembered his name.

If he wanted to return, the choice had to be his.

Not mine.