The days went by and, little by little, I realized that mom and dad were getting busier and busier with Thomas. I understood that he was small and needed attention... but understanding didn't mean that I liked him.
That afternoon, as I wandered around looking for something entertaining to do, I noticed that everything was still just as monotonous. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Mom was engrossed in Thomas, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. It didn't bother me - not at all, at least. But couldn't they look at me, too?
-Drake!
A loud voice interrupted my thoughts.
-Yes?
I turned my head and saw Mr. Joseph, the town butcher.
-Your father stopped by earlier and left a delivery. Could you take it home?
-Of course!
I walked over to the bazaar and waited for him to hand me what I needed to take. The man let out a sudden laugh. I looked at him with a frown, somewhat confused.
-Why the laughter, Mr. Joseph?
-Your father predicted you'd be around here looking bored, and boy, was he right.
I narrowed my eyes.
-Hmm... that sounds like something he would say.
Just as I was about to take the basket with the order, something caught my eye.
-Mr. Joseph... that leftover pig's foot, what are you going to do with it?
-Oh, that's also part of the order, but it's on your mother's order.
-I see... hehe.
A brilliant idea crossed my mind. I took the basket, where there were some chops and the pork leg.
-Take care, Drake. And say hello to your mother and little Thomas.
-Yes, I will! Thank you very much, Mr. Joseph. With your permission.
It was not long before night fell. Everyone at home had an assigned role. Dad took care of Thomas, Mom prepared dinner... but I had nothing to do.
-Mom, can I help you with dinner?
-Of course, my boy, but...what's with the urge to help
-You've been so busy with Thomas lately, so I want to help lighten your load...plus, I want to cut off that pig's foot.
Mom looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
-Mmm... that's going to be tricky for you, love. Why don't you trim the excess fat off the chops?
I frowned.
-That's boring... but okay. If I can't, I'll let you know," I adopted the cutest expression I could, like a kitten begging for some food.
Still, I noticed the uneasiness on Mom's face. I knew she was worried about me, but I had other plans in mind.
-Mmm... well, okay. But please be very careful.
The plan code-named "Scare" was beginning.
Mom instructed me to cut off the hooves first, as she would cook them separately to add a special touch to the meal.
-Okay, Mom.
I took the knife and began to deliberately cut slowly, waiting for the perfect moment.
But Mom was crafty. She kept her eyes on me. Until... the golden opportunity came.
-Waaaaa!
Thomas started to cry. Mom immediately turned in the direction of the sound.
-Ethan, what's wrong? -she cried worriedly.
I seized the instant. I took the knife and stuck it between the hooves of the pig's foot, arranging it in such a way that it seemed to go through my own hand. Then I hid it under my sleeve and covered it with the other. To give it more realism, I had prepared some red paint... but it wasn't even necessary.
The blood in the flesh did all the work for me. I arched up a little, bracing myself for what was coming, but before I could say anything else... Mom was already on top of me.
-Drake! What's wrong?
-Nothing, Mom...just...um...I think I cut wrong.
-Drake, show me your hand. It's okay, let me see.
-Really, Mom, it's nothing. You better help daddy with Thomas.
Her voice became more serious, strained.
-Drake... let me see.
-Mmm... no.
-It's not funny. -Show it to me right now!
He didn't give me time to react. He grabbed my wrist and, with a firm movement, uncovered the supposed wound.
-AHHHHH!" A scream of terror echoed through the house.
The knife was still there, blood stained the wood of the table and his heart hammered in his ears. She felt short of breath and her legs trembled before she fell to the floor.
Mom fell to the floor, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide as saucers. She was completely horrified.
The crash caught Dad's attention, who ran into the kitchen with Thomas in his arms.
-Angie, what's wrong?
His gaze fell on me... on the knife, on the blood...
He didn't hesitate. He rushed over.
Easy, son. Let's..." His voice suddenly faded. His eyes focused better on the scene. His breathing stopped for a moment, and then... the truth revealed itself to him.
His eyes focused better on the scene. And there he understood.
It wasn't my hand. It was the pig's foot.
There was a second of silence... an endless one. I saw the confusion in Dad's eyes and the horror on Mom's face. And then... I couldn't help it. I let out a little laugh.
-Relax, Mom. It wasn't my hand... it's just the pig's foot. Nothing happened to me. -I said with a huge smile.
Dad sighed. Mom, on the other hand, was on her feet in an instant, her face red with fury.
-Drake!
The spanking was inevitable.
-Now you're getting smart, son. -Dad shook his head.
-You idiot! You can't play with that. -Mom said, with tears in her eyes and still trembling with shock. -Why did you do it?
I looked at both of them, still feeling the burning in my butt from the reprimand, but unable to hold back a giggle.
-I just wanted to have a little fun... hehe.
-How can you call that fun? -Mom's voice trembled, a mixture of anger, anguish and relief. The tension in the air was so thick you could almost touch it.
Her eyes were still fixed on me, still glistening with tears.
-You can't imagine the pain I felt at that moment. -Her voice cracked a little. -Stop talking nonsense and tell me, why did you do it!
The weight of his words fell on me.
In my mind, that had been nothing more than a simple joke... but for Mom it had been something much bigger... a direct blow to her heart. A direct blow to her heart.
Shall I tell them? Will they understand me? Or will they get angrier? But... I can't keep this to myself anymore...
I looked down, unable to hold her gaze. Remorse began to sink into my chest.
-The truth is..." I barely mumbled, feeling a lump form in my throat, "I'm jealous
Dad frowned and his tone became more serious.
-Why would you be jealous, Drake?
The silence went on forever. I felt Mom and Dad's eyes on me, waiting for an explanation. My chest tightened...the words were there, trapped, but they wouldn't come out. Until... I couldn't take it anymore.
I took a breath.
-Because of Thomas.
My words floated in the air like a heavy secret.
-I'm happy to have a little brother... -my voice trembled a little- but... he consumes most of your time.All of you two's time. And... you leave me out.
A stony silence pervaded the kitchen. Mom and Dad's eyes widened like saucers. They looked speechless. Had they been so surprised?
Dad looked at Mom, and she at him, as if trying to process what they had just heard. Was it possible that a child barely four years old could express his feelings so clearly?
Mom put a hand to her chest, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and guilt.
-Oh... my boy...
Dad let out a heavy sigh, bending down a little to be at my level.
-Drake..." His voice sounded softer now, with a tinge of tenderness that made my eyes begin to sting.
The truth was out. And though I didn't know exactly what their looks meant, I felt a little lighter.
I hadn't meant to hurt them. I just...wanted them to look at me again.
Angie knelt gently in front of Drake, wrapping him in a warm embrace as she stroked his hair tenderly. Her voice, barely a whisper filled with guilt and love, reached his ears:
-Oh, my little boy...we would never leave you aside. Forgive us for not noticing sooner.
Ethan came over, crouching down beside them. He placed a firm but comforting hand on Drake's shoulder, and with a warm smile, he said:
-I promise you, champ... from now on we'll spend more time together. Just you and me, like before.
***
After that incident, everything changed. Mom and Dad started spending more time with me, and although Thomas still required a lot of attention, I no longer felt invisible. I felt... loved again.
That particular night was quiet. Moonlight filtered through my bedroom window, creating soft shadows that danced on the walls. Dad was with me, sitting on the edge of my bed, holding Thomas in his arms as the little boy slept peacefully.
I listened intently as Dad told me stories...the ones about my grandparents and uncles. This time, however, his words had a different tone, as if each memory weighed more heavily on his soul.
-They were all great people..." Dad murmured, his voice laden with quiet pride, but also with a sadness that seemed to weigh heavy on his heart. But..." he paused briefly, as if the words hurt as they came out, "they are no longer with us.
A shadow crossed his gaze.
-Why? -I asked innocently.
Dad sighed, his gaze lost for a moment in the distance.
-Because of a war... a war that changed everything.
The silence that followed weighed like a slab.
I couldn't help but ask what had been on my mind for a long time.
-Dad..." My voice sounded more serious than usual, "Doesn't it make you angry? Don't you feel like... taking revenge?
Dad didn't answer right away. His gaze turned to the window, gazing at the starry sky as if searching for answers in the stars. The brightness of the moon illuminated his face, showing a mixture of calm and reflection.
-I'm not going to lie to you, son. -His voice sounded deeper now, almost as if the words weighed on him. There was a time..." he paused, as if remembering something far away, "when those thoughts... consumed me. Rage kept me awake at night and I dreamed of doing justice for those who were gone.
His eyes narrowed, as if he felt the weight of those memories.
-I imagined many times how I could do it. But..."-her lips curved into a slight melancholy smile-"time changed many things.
For a moment, her silence worried me. What if Dad... still wanted revenge? His gaze lost in the distance seemed to be torn between the past and the present. And then...
He turned to look at me, his gaze now soft, laden with tenderness.
-Sharing my days with your mother and then..." Dad murmured, his voice laden with sweet nostalgia, letting the silence speak for a moment. His fingers caressed Thomas's head gently before he continued, "I had you... and now your brother.
An inexplicable warmth filled my chest as I listened to him.
-I'm living the happiest moments of my existence. Would taking revenge now really make sense? Would it be worth sacrificing all this?
I felt a lump in my throat.
-Dad..." I swallowed saliva, "those questions... are too complicated for me now," I let out a nervous chuckle to disguise it.
Dad smiled too, his expression relaxed again, "Sorry, Drake. -He ran a hand through his hair, as if to erase the seriousness of the mood. Sometimes I get carried away...
His tone changed, becoming firmer but full of love.
-But listen to this well, son... revenge is never the right way. It can eat you up inside and turn you into someone you never wanted to be.
Dad's words echoed in my mind... but deep in my heart, I wondered if I would ever have to face that choice. And if that time came... would I be strong enough to keep my promise?
I nodded, feeling the weight of those words.
-I understood. I will never... take that path.
Dad's proud smile lit up the room brighter than the moon itself.
-I'm glad to hear that. -His fingers gently ruffled my hair. Always keep those words in your heart, Drake.
For an instant, our eyes met...and without words, I understood. Dad wasn't just teaching me a lesson, he was entrusting me with a piece of his soul. And I... was ready to honor it.
***
The next day, the scene was much the same: just Dad and me, while Mom was taking care of Thomas in the other room. The afternoon sun filtered its golden light through the window, softly illuminating the room and filling the atmosphere with a comforting calm.
-Dad... how did you and mom meet? -I asked curiously, breaking the silence.
As soon as he heard my words, a warm, nostalgic smile appeared on his face. Her eyes shone with that kind of light that only comes on when someone remembers the most beautiful moments of their life. A spark of happiness, so pure, that for a moment she seemed to travel back in time.
-It's a story that deserves to be told by both of us..." he said softly, and without hesitation, he stood up.
I was surprised to see him hurry out of the room, as if he feared that the story might be lost if he didn't tell it right away. He returned soon after, this time hand in hand with Mom, who was holding Thomas in her arms. Although the little boy barely had the strength to stay awake, he seemed incredibly alert, as if he too was eager to hear the story.
They sat together on the bed, Mom cradling Thomas gently, while I settled into Dad's lap, feeling the protective warmth of his embrace. The scene was perfect... almost as if time stood still to give us that moment just for us.
Amidst laughter and complicit glances, they began to recount their adventures. They talked about how their paths crossed when they were just noble children, full of dreams and mischief. They told each other anecdotes with such enthusiasm that it seemed as if they were living them all over again. I was amazed to see them like that: so alive, so young in spirit, as if the innocence of those days had never left them.
However, what impressed me most was not the story itself, but what was behind those words... the effort, sacrifice and unconditional love that had led them to build this home full of warmth and happiness. They were barely twenty-three years old, yet they had accomplished so much. They had given themselves completely to each other, and now, to us.
Dad looked at Mom with a deep tenderness, his love shining in his eyes, as if that feeling had never changed with the passage of time.
-Someday, son..." he said, his voice full of conviction as he kept his eyes fixed on her, "you will find that one person for whom you will want to give everything... no matter what it costs.
After uttering those words, he gave mom a soft kiss, sealing that moment with a gesture full of silent promises.
-And together..." he continued, his gaze descending on Thomas and me, "you will build a family as beautiful as this one. Two wonderful children to protect and love.
He stretched out his arms and wrapped the four of us in a warm embrace, where time seemed to stand still. In that instant, I felt something very deep in my heart... an immense peace, as if that embrace had filled an emptiness that I didn't even know existed.
Even though they were adults to me, they were actually so young...so incredibly young. But their love and dedication had given us everything: a home where love was the force that held everything together, where every laugh and every story was a seed of happiness planted in my soul.
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling that enveloping warmth that only a family can give. I couldn't ask for a better life than this. That feeling of peace... of belonging... it was as if my heart had longed for it for a long time without even knowing it.
***
It was clear that mom and dad needed a break. Between kids, homework, mischief and sleepless nights, it was only fair that they had some time to themselves. They took advantage of my Uncle Leo's visit to get away for a while. He's not my blood uncle, but that never mattered. Leonard has been in my life for as long as I can remember: protective, adventurous and always willing to share a story. To me, he will always be my uncle. My Uncle Leo.
There they were, standing together on the doorstep, holding hands, with that complicity that only those who truly love each other have.
-Drake," Mom said sweetly, "your dad and I are going out for a moment. Leo will stay with you.
-Yes, Mom. Don't worry," I replied, trying to sound more mature than I was.
I knew I had to be good. That little moment they were taking for themselves was something precious, something they deserved. As young as they were, they carried a huge responsibility, and yet the love between them had not faded. They just needed a break... and I had to respect that.
Leo, with Thomas asleep in his arms, turned to us with a serious expression, though his eyes always conveyed a tenderness that contrasted with his steady voice.
-Ethan, take care of yourselves. And if anything happens," he looked straight at me, "come and get me without hesitation. I'll take care of it.
Dad smiled with that calmness that always accompanied him.
-Don't worry, we'll be back just a little late.
He squeezed Mom's hand and, looking at me mischievously, added:
-See you, Drake. Be good.
I watched them walk away as the last rays of dusk washed over their silhouettes. The image stuck in my mind like a warm painting: two figures walking away, but leaving behind the echo of their love.
-Well, Drake," Leo said, breaking the silence, "what do you want to do?
It took me to snap out of my thoughts.
-To tell you the truth, I'm undecided... are you going to teach me how to use the sword yet?
-Not so fast," he laughed. Your father was very clear: no swords until you're five.
-Come on... you could at least give me an idea, something to start with on my own.
Leo thought for a moment, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
-Hmm... we'll see. For now, are you hungry?
-Yes, but for knowledge.
He let out a laugh.
-Hahaha... you don't give up, huh? I'm fine. But promise me you won't put it into practice yet.
-I promise nothing," I said with a mischievous grin.
Leo smiled back and bent down a little to be at my level.
-The first thing you need to know is that the sword is not just about strength or speed. It all starts with the swings. You must know its weight, its rhythm... feel how it moves with you.
-Its... feel? -I asked, somewhat puzzled.
-Yes. Because a sword is not just an object. It is an extension of your body, and also your guardian. Many swordsmen talk with their swords. Not because they are crazy, but because that bond... that understanding, can make the difference between life and death.
I was dumbfounded. I had imagined the sword as a simple instrument, a tool of combat... but to Leo it was almost a living thing. A companion.
-You talk to your sword too?
Leo nodded with a nostalgic smile.
-At first it felt ridiculous. But over time... it became part of my routine. And in times of loneliness, believe me, it's not such bad company.
I laughed loudly.
-If you hadn't explained all that before, I would have thought you and the others were... well, a little crazy.
Leo burst out laughing too, with that low chuckle that always filled the room.
-We probably are, Drake. But sometimes a little craziness is what it takes to survive.
-But tell me something, Leo," I insisted, "why shouldn't I start on my own? What's wrong with practicing by myself?
Leo looked at me seriously, the kind of look that doesn't need to raise its voice to impose itself. Then he took a deep breath before answering.
-Because if you start without guidance, you'll train with mistakes you won't even know you're making. And those mistakes...become habits." His voice was firm, almost like an echo of lived experience. Bad posture, unbalanced movements, poorly trained reflexes... You might think you're moving forward, that you're learning. But in reality you would be digging your own grave.
I frowned, a little puzzled.
-So much so...?
-Yes. -Leo nodded gravely. You can become quick, even skilled. But the day will come when you face someone who not only has strength or technique... but true control. And on that day, Drake, it won't matter how much experience you've gathered on your account.... because a single mistake can take it all away from you before you even have time to understand what you did wrong.
His words fell on me like a stone on my chest. It was not a threat. It was a warning born out of a desire to protect me
-The sword doesn't forgive arrogance," he added softly. "That's why you need to learn with humility, step by step, from the beginning. Not so you'll be strong… but so you'll live long enough to become truly strong."
At that moment, I understood that the sword wasn't just a game. It was a promise. One that had to be honored with respect… or it could turn against you.
-I see… then I have no choice but to wait," I finally said, resigned but still hopeful ".
Leo nodded with a slight smile.
-A wise decision.
But my curiosity still throbbed, like a flame that refuses to go out.
-Even so… you could tell me a little more, couldn't you? Something to help me better understand how to begin, even if it's just with the theory.
Leo let out a long, but not annoyed, sigh. More like someone remembering their own youth.
-Listen carefully, because this is worth more than a thousand training sessions.
I sat with my eyes wide open, as if every word were gold.
-To start off on the right foot, training must be done with a wooden sword," he began. " Not just for safety, although that matters too. But because before learning to wound... you must learn control.
-Control? What do you mean?
-Control of your body, your impulses, your judgment. Many believe a sword is only good for attacking, but no. It's good for measuring your temper, forging patience. And that begins with a weapon that doesn't kill, but teaches.
I nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
-And when the time comes to use a real sword," Leo continued, " you'll have to start with the most worn one you can find. Dull, lackluster. One that looks useless."
I frowned, confused.
-But why? Wouldn't a well-maintained sword be better?
-That's precisely the trap," he replied gravely. " New swords cut effortlessly. They make you think you're better than you really are. But reality... won't always give you the best. And if you've never grown accustomed to limitations, then the day your sword fails, you'll fail with it.
There was a moment of silence before he continued.
-Furthermore... there's a truth few teach: a dull sword doesn't forgive mistakes. Every bad cut hurts your arms. Every deflection demands correction. And when you face someone with a better weapon, you'll have already trained under the worst conditions. For you, cutting will be natural." For them... it will be the first time the road hasn't been easy for them.
I was speechless. This way of thinking was completely new to me.
I swallowed, feeling like something deep inside me had been touched.
-Wow... I've never thought of it that way," I said, my eyes wide. " Like I have a soul...
Leo smiled, his eyes shining with a sparkle that spoke of years lived with steel in their hands and fire in their hearts.
-Because she does, Drake. Or at least... you give her one by sharing your destiny with her.
I couldn't wield a sword yet... but I was beginning to understand its weight.
-And remember, Drake... the wounds of the sword heal. Those of arrogance don't always.
Perhaps, when the day comes when I finally pick up a real sword... Dad will see in me the reflection of everything you built together: love, discipline, and purpose.