Maya's voice still echoed through the living room like a crack of thunder. "Mom! Is this true? You agreed to this?"
Linda sat frozen on the sofa, her hands clasped together in her lap, the tremble in her fingers betraying a storm she was fighting to hide. The air in the room had shifted from warm and chaotic to heavy and electric, like a pressure drop before a tornado. Sophie stood behind their father's leg, her wide eyes darting from face to face, her little backpack clutched like a shield.
Their father cleared his throat, but his calm tone only sharpened Maya's anger. "Your mother and I both thought it was time..."
"Don't you dare," Maya snapped, cutting him off. "Don't you dare make it sound like we're one big happy family making decisions together. You just show up, waltz in with a child we've never seen before, and expect us to...what? Smile and take her on like a pet?"
"Maya." Linda's voice was soft but strained. "Lower your tone."
"No," Maya said flatly, turning to her. "No, Mom. Not this time. You're sitting there, letting him do this to us, and you agreed? After everything? After years of him walking in and out of our lives, you think this is okay?"
Ethan's fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw working. He stared at his father as though trying to hold his glare like a blade. "You had a kid and you kept her hidden. And now, when it's convenient, you think you can parade her in like a gift? Do you even hear yourself?"
"I didn't hide her," their father said quietly, but the measured tone only fanned the flames. "I was waiting for the right time."
Maya laughed bitterly, the sound sharp. "The right time? When Mom was in the hospital? When Ethan and I thought she might die? When everything was already falling apart?" She jabbed a finger at him. "You don't get to decide what's right anymore. You lost that privilege years ago."
Sophie's eyes filled with tears she was trying not to spill. She looked up at her father, confused, frightened, sensing the hostility but not understanding it.
Ethan finally spoke, his voice low but shaking. "You think this is family? This is you cleaning up your mess. You break us, you leave, you start over, and then when it suits you, you shove the pieces together." He took a step closer. "And you expect me to welcome her like a brother?"
Their father's face tightened. "She's innocent. She's your sister."
"No," Ethan said sharply, his voice rising. "She's your daughter. Not my sister. Not yet. Don't throw that word at me like it fixes anything."
Linda tried to speak, but Maya spun back to her, tears stinging her eyes. "How could you, Mom? How could you agree to this? You used to fight for us, remember? You used to tell him no."
Linda's lips trembled. "I… I thought it would help. I thought..."
"You thought?" Maya's voice cracked. "You thought bringing another child into this mess would heal it?"
"I thought maybe if we started building bridges..."
"Bridges?" Maya nearly shouted. "He burned every bridge we had, Mom! And you're handing him the matches!"
Ethan's voice cut through, low and furious. "Do you even see us? Do you see me, Mom? Or am I just another mistake you're trying to cover up with forgiveness?"
Their father took a step forward, trying to steady the room. "Enough," he said firmly. "This is not how we treat each other. Life is short. You almost lost your mother. I don't want us to lose any more time. This is about family."
Maya's shoulders shook with rage. "You don't get to say 'family' like it's a magic word. You haven't been family to us in years. You were a ghost when we needed you, and now you want a seat at the table like nothing happened."
Linda's tears finally broke free. "Maya.."
"No!" Maya's voice cracked again. "No more excuses. You let him do this. You agreed, Mom. You betrayed us."
Sophie whimpered softly, shrinking behind her father's leg. Ethan looked at her, his expression dark but conflicted; his anger at his father warred with the sting of seeing a frightened child. He turned away, jaw clenched, eyes shining with restrained emotion.
Their father's tone hardened, his calm cracking just slightly. "I'm not asking you to love her right now. I'm asking you to try. She deserves a chance."
"Then give her a chance somewhere else," Ethan snapped. "Because right now, all I see is you trying to fix your mistakes by dumping them on us."
Maya's breath came ragged. "You don't get to rewrite our history, Dad. You don't get to force us into this."
Silence crashed over the room like a wave. Sophie's small sniffles were the only sound.
Ethan turned abruptly and stormed toward the hallway, his footsteps heavy. "I'm done with this."
Maya followed, but not before throwing one last look at her mother -- an expression of hurt so raw it felt like a wound. "I can't even look at you right now."
The siblings disappeared down the hall, their bedroom doors slamming almost in unison.
Dinner came and went. Plates clinked in the kitchen, voices murmured, but two chairs stayed empty.
In Maya's room, the curtains were drawn tight. She sat on the edge of her bed, trembling with fury, her hands twisting in her lap. Tessa sat nearby, legs crossed, her usual sparkle muted by the storm she'd just witnessed.
Maya's voice was sharp, breathless. "I can't believe her. I can't believe she agreed. After everything, after years of him walking all over us..."
"You're right," Tessa said quickly, almost too quickly. Her eyes darted to Maya's, her tone tentative. "You're completely right."
Maya's eyes flashed. "She always says she's protecting us, but she's just letting him control everything. And now there's a kid..."
"You're right," Tessa said again, softer this time. "She's wrong. You're right to be angry."
Maya's hands balled into fists. "I feel like I'm going to explode."
Tessa reached out, gently touching her shoulder. "Then explode. Yell. Scream. I'm here."
Maya's eyes welled, but her voice stayed sharp. "We almost lost her, Tessa. And the first thing he does is bring his kid? Like we're a daycare for his mistakes?"
"You're right," Tessa murmured again, her voice steady, letting Maya's fury pour out unchecked. "He's selfish. He's always been selfish."
For a moment, the only sound was Maya's shaky breathing. Then, unexpectedly, a small, bitter laugh slipped from her lips. "You're just agreeing with me so I don't punch a wall, aren't you?"
Tessa's lips curved into a faint, conspiratorial smile. "Maybe."
Maya blinked at her, the edge of her anger softening. "You're scared of me right now."
"Terrified," Tessa said with a mock-seriousness that made Maya's lips twitch despite herself. "You're like a hurricane in a hoodie."
A laugh bubbled out of Maya, small and startled but real. "A hurricane in a hoodie? Really?"
Tessa grinned. "Category five."
Maya's shoulders slumped, some of the tension draining out of her. She leaned back against the headboard, exhaling. "I hate him."
"I know," Tessa said softly.
"I hate her too, for letting him do this."
"I know."
Maya looked at her, eyes still wet. "But you're here."
"I'm here," Tessa said simply.
Silence stretched between them, but it was no longer heavy. It was softer, tentative, like a room after a storm when the air smells of rain.
Maya chuckled weakly. "Hurricane in a hoodie, huh?"
Tessa laughed, leaning back beside her. "I stand by it."
And for the first time that day, the sharpness in Maya's chest eased. The two of them sat there, side by side, talking quietly, their words slowly drifting from fury to jokes to memories. The storm had not passed outside the room, but here, for now, it dulled, leaving only the soft, strange calm of two people sharing the wreckage.
They talked until the house outside fell silent. Then, still murmuring, still laughing a little at nothing, they let the night carry them further from the day's chaos, a fragile peace settling between them like a truce.