The Touch - Rewrite

Kyan and Dad helped me carry everything upstairs, and by the time we were finished, my room looked like a department store had exploded inside it. Shopping bags covered half the floor, shoe boxes were stacked near the closet, and there were enough new clothes spread across the bed that I could barely see the comforter underneath.

Dad stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, surveying the chaos like he was regretting every financial decision he had made that day.

“I blame your mother,” he said firmly.

Kyan laughed as he dropped another bag near the dresser.

“You were the one who took him to the mall.”

“Yes,” Dad replied, pointing dramatically, “under false pretenses. I thought I was raising a quiet, responsible child. Instead, I apparently created Lauren Junior.”

“I’m not that bad,” I muttered, even though I absolutely was.

Dad snorted.

“Buddy, you bought enough clothes to survive three separate identities.”

I giggled as he reached over and ruffled my hair before helping us move the desk against the far wall. We had to rearrange half the furniture to make room for the new computer system and desk that were being delivered the next day, and by the time everything was finally in place, the room looked more like mine than it had before.

There was space for my bookshelves, room for the keyboard I had ordered, and enough closet space that I still wasn’t sure what to do with all of it.

Dad gave the room one last approving nod.

“There. Now it looks like someone actually lives here.”

Before I could answer, Mom called from downstairs that dinner would be ready soon, and Dad smiled.

“That means your mother needs help and I’d like to remain married, so I’m leaving you two to finish putting all this away.”

He disappeared downstairs, leaving me alone with Kyan and what felt like an entire mall’s worth of clothes.

Kyan stood there for a second, staring at the closet like he was trying to calculate how much work we still had left.

Then he looked at me.

“How much money did you spend today, Zyan?”

I froze with a handful of shirts in my arms.

“Umm…”

I actually had to think about it for a second.

“I think it was somewhere around ten thousand.”

Kyan stopped moving entirely.

“Holy shit, dude!”

I burst out laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much money at one time,” he said, still staring at me like I had confessed to buying a small country.

I shrugged and started hanging shirts up.

“It was kind of fun,” I admitted. “I bought a really awesome keyboard too. It won’t be here until Thursday, though.”

That finally got him moving again.

“Have you played the grand yet?”

I smiled immediately because I knew exactly which piano he meant.

“No, but Sarah showed it to me last night.”

Just thinking about it made my chest feel warm again. The glossy black grand piano sitting in front of the fireplace had looked almost too perfect to touch. It had taken everything I had not to sit down right then and lose myself in it for hours.

“I might sneak in there later so I can play it.”

Kyan laughed softly.

“You don’t have to sneak, Zyan. You can play it whenever you want.”

I smiled at that and kept folding clothes. Hearing him say things like that still caught me off guard sometimes. Simple things. Normal things. Like the piano belonged to me too. Like the house did.

It only took us another ten minutes or so to finish putting everything away. The closet was finally organized, the dresser was full, and there were piles of books sitting on top of it waiting for the new bookshelf Dad had promised to help me build.

I stood in the middle of the room for a second, looking around to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything.

It looked different now.

Less like a guest room.

More like mine.

I grabbed my phone off the bed and headed downstairs with Kyan following right behind me.

Halfway down the stairs, he bumped my shoulder lightly.

“Did you know we have a pool?”

I stopped.

For a second, I just stood there staring at him while something cold settled in my chest.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea for me,” I said quietly.

Kyan looked confused at first, and then I watched the realization hit him.

His face changed immediately.

I swallowed hard and looked away before the tears gathering in my eyes could actually fall. I didn’t trust myself to keep talking, so I just kept walking.

“Zyan, wait.”

He hurried after me, catching up before I made it to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I forgot about what happened.”

“It’s alright,” I said softly, even though it wasn’t. “You guys can’t keep holding back just because of me.”

I forced myself to smile, but even I could feel how weak it looked.

Kyan frowned.

“I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that you’re being torn up inside over this, Zyan,” he said quietly. “I also know the memories of what happened haunt you constantly, and I wish I could take them away from you. I would do anything to take that pain away just so I could see you smile without holding back.”

I sniffled and looked away from him again because hearing that somehow made it worse.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m trying…”

Kyan stepped forward and pulled me into his arms before I could say anything else.

He held me tightly, like he thought if he let go too soon I might disappear again.

“That’s all you can ever do, baby brother,” he said softly. “Just keep trying to smile. The pain of the memories will fade with time.”

I clung to him for a second before I finally whispered the truth I hated most.

“I’ll always have the scars.”

Then I pulled away and kept walking.

I didn’t stop in the kitchen. I barely even looked at Mom or Dad as I passed through. I had one thought in my head and one place I needed to be.

The piano.

I crossed the foyer quickly, my vision blurred slightly by tears as I made my way to the grand piano sitting near the front room windows. My hands were shaking when I pulled the bench out and lifted the cover.

I sat down and took one deep breath.

Then I started to play.

The opening notes of Amazing Grace filled the quiet house, soft and trembling at first. My fingers knew where to go even when the rest of me felt like I was falling apart. I hummed under my breath at first, letting the music steady me.

Then I started to sing.

My voice shook, but I kept going.

Little by little, the panic loosened its grip. The music gave me something to hold onto. Something stronger than the memories trying to drag me under.

By the time I reached the final notes, I could breathe again.

I had just let my hands fall still when arms wrapped around me from behind.

I jumped so hard I actually yelped.

Kyan laughed softly against my shoulder as he held me tighter.

“I love you, Zyan,” he whispered, and I could hear the tremble in his voice. “I love everything about you, baby brother. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I leaned back against him, exhausted.

“I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t understanding,” he replied.

I smiled a little and reached up to squeeze his arm.

“I love you, Kyan. I feel like I’ve always missed you.”

He squeezed me tighter.

“I’m never going to let you leave me again.”

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then my stomach growled loudly enough that we both burst out laughing.

Kyan pulled away first.

“Come on,” he said with a grin. “Mom says dinner’s ready.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dining room where Mom, Dad, and Sarah were already waiting for us. Kyan pushed me toward the empty chair beside Dad before going to sit next to Mom.

Sarah was sitting across from me with a look on her face that immediately made me suspicious.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said with a grin. “I just can’t wait to see Professor Waterson’s face when you show him that you play like that all the time.”

I immediately blushed, having completely forgotten that I was going to rehearsal with both her and Kyan.

She laughed when she saw the panic on my face.

“There’s a reason it’s called rehearsal, Zyan,” Sarah said. “It’s when we’re allowed to mess up. Professor Waterson sort of expects it.”

That helped a little.

I smiled and finally reached for the pot roast my mother had made, deciding that maybe surviving orchestra rehearsal could wait until after dinner.

Dinner was quieter than usual after that.

It wasn’t a bad kind of quiet. It was the kind that came after emotions had already run high and nobody wanted to push too hard. Mom kept glancing at me every few minutes like she was checking to make sure I was still alright, and Dad kept casually sliding extra food onto my plate like feeding me somehow fixed everything.

Honestly, it helped.

Sarah filled most of the silence by talking about school and orchestra rehearsal on Tuesday, and Kyan kept interrupting her just to be annoying. At one point, she got fed up, grabbed a dinner roll, and threw it at him from across the table. Before Kyan could even react, Dad calmly reached over, stole the roll off his plate, and took a bite like absolutely nothing had happened.

“Collateral damage,” Dad said smoothly when Kyan protested.

Mom sighed heavily like this was somehow a regular part of dinner.

“Does it have to be every night?” Sarah asked, looking personally offended by both of them.

That made me laugh harder than I probably should have.

It felt normal, and that was still the strangest part sometimes. One second I would be drowning in memories I didn’t want, and the next I was sitting at the table watching my father commit bread theft while my sister threatened violence across the pot roast.

Maybe that was what family was supposed to feel like.

After dinner, Dad disappeared into his office for a little while, claiming deadlines were evil and publishers were worse. Mom stayed downstairs with Sarah, and Kyan dragged me back upstairs under the excuse that he needed help picking a movie for later.

He absolutely did not need help.

He just didn’t want me sitting alone.

We ended up sprawled across my bed while he flipped through options on the television and I half paid attention, mostly just enjoying the quiet and the fact that I wasn’t being left alone with my own thoughts.

It didn’t last long.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached over to grab it, expecting maybe Chad or Natalie.

Instead, it was Greg.

Just seeing his name made me smile a little.

Greg: You alive over there, buddy? Or did Lauren finally smother you to death?

I laughed under my breath before I even answered.

“What?” Kyan asked from beside me.

“Greg.”

“That explains the face.”

I ignored him and typed back.

Me: Barely survived. Mom kissed me at least fourteen times today.

Almost immediately, another message came through.

Greg: Only fourteen? She must be feeling sick.

I laughed harder.

Me: Dad says I’m becoming Lauren Junior because I spent too much money today.

Greg: Ah. So you’ve accepted your destiny.

Me: Apparently.

Another message popped up before I could even set the phone down.

Greg: Toby keeps asking if Wednesday is here yet.

That one hit differently.

I stared at the screen for a second longer than I meant to, my smile fading just a little.

I missed Toby already.

I missed Natalie and Greg too, even sitting in my own house with my real family around me. It was strange trying to figure out how both things could be true at once. It felt wrong sometimes, like I was supposed to choose one over the other, and I hated that my brain kept trying to make it feel like that.

Kyan must have noticed the shift in my face because he nudged my shoulder lightly.

“What happened?”

I handed him the phone without saying anything.

He read the message, smiled softly, and handed it back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That sounds like Toby.”

I nodded and stared down at the phone in my hands.

“I feel bad.”

“For leaving?”

I nodded again.

Kyan was quiet for a second before he answered.

“Zyan, loving one family doesn’t mean you love the other one less.”

I kept looking down at my hands.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

That made me look up at him.

He was watching me carefully now. No teasing. No jokes. Just honest.

“Because from where I’m sitting, it kind of looks like you think you’re doing something wrong by loving all of us.”

I swallowed hard.

Maybe I did.

Maybe part of me still thought I was supposed to choose. That loving Natalie and Greg somehow took something away from Mom and Dad. That missing Toby meant I wasn’t grateful enough for getting my real family back.

“I don’t want anyone to think I’m replacing them,” I admitted quietly.

Kyan reached over and smacked my arm.

“First of all, rude. You can’t replace me, I’m your face.”

I snorted despite myself.

“Second,” he continued, “Natalie and Greg love you. Mom and Dad love you. Toby worships you like you hung the moon. Nobody is competing for custody of your emotional damage, okay?”

That made me laugh, even while my eyes stung a little.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your emotional support twin. It’s my job.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

Downstairs, I heard Mom calling that dessert was ready, and Kyan immediately sat up like he had just been activated by magic.

“Chocolate cake,” he said seriously. “This conversation is over.”

He grabbed my wrist and started dragging me off the bed before I could protest.

“You’re insane.”

“And yet, still your favorite.”

He wasn’t wrong.

We went back downstairs to find Sarah already stealing icing off the cake while Mom yelled at her and Dad stood nearby pretending not to be involved even though he was absolutely holding the fork she was using.

I stopped in the doorway for a second and just watched them.

All of them.

Loud.

Chaotic.

Mine.

For the first time in a very long time, the future didn’t feel like something terrifying waiting for me.

It felt like something I might actually get to have.

Monday morning started quietly.

For once, I was the last one awake.

When I came downstairs, still half asleep and rubbing at my eyes, the house already smelled like coffee and breakfast. Sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows, warm and bright against the counters, and for a second I just stood there taking it in. It was one of those simple moments that felt bigger than it should have—sunlight, the smell of food, voices already moving through the house. It felt normal in a way I still wasn’t used to.

Mom was at the stove, humming softly to herself while she cooked breakfast. Dad sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open beside a cup of coffee, already working even though it wasn’t even eight yet. Sarah was leaning against the island scrolling through her phone, and Kyan looked like he had been dragged out of bed against his will and was still personally offended by it.

Mom looked up first and smiled.

“There he is. Good morning, baby boy.”

Before I could even answer, she crossed the kitchen and pulled me into a hug. I laughed softly and hugged her back. I was still getting used to how naturally she loved on me, but I didn’t fight it anymore.

“Morning, Mom.”

She kissed my forehead before finally letting me go.

“There’s breakfast on the stove. Sit down before your father steals it.”

Dad looked up with complete innocence.

“I would never.”

Sarah snorted.

“He absolutely would.”

Dad placed a hand over his chest like he had been deeply wounded.

“I’m being attacked in my own home.”

“Deservedly,” Kyan muttered as he stabbed at a piece of bacon like it had personally insulted him.

I smiled and slipped into the chair beside Dad, and almost immediately he slid half a piece of toast onto my plate.

“Eat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Breakfast settled into the kind of easy chaos I was starting to realize was normal for this family. Mom fussed over whether everyone had enough food, Sarah and Kyan argued over who had stolen whose charger, Dad kept pretending to work while obviously listening to every word, and I sat there somewhere in the middle of it all trying not to smile too much.

It felt good.

It felt safe.

It felt like home.

I had just finished my second piece of toast when Dad’s phone rang.

The room shifted immediately. Dad frowned slightly as he looked at the screen before answering.

“Yeah?”

There was a pause, and then I watched his expression change.

It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t anger. It was something quieter than that—serious enough to make my stomach tighten instantly.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Go ahead and send her up to the house. Have her park by the garage.”

Another short pause followed before he gave a brief nod.

“Thanks.”

He ended the call slowly and looked at me.

That alone was enough to make my chest go cold.

“What happened?”

Dad stood from the table and walked over to where I was sitting.

“The guard shack just called,” he said gently. “Karen Stevens is here.”

I froze.

Of course I knew Karen.

She had been my caseworker since January, after I was taken from Harold Stubbs and placed with Natalie and Greg. She was one of the first adults I had met who didn’t expect something from me, didn’t want something from me, and didn’t make me feel like I had to be afraid all the time.

She was the one who helped handle everything after the hospital. The paperwork. The placement. The legal mess that came with trying to put my life back together. She was one of the very few adults I actually trusted.

Mom and Dad had only met her a few days ago when everything finally came out, but for me, Karen had already become one of the steady people in my life. She was calm. Predictable. Safe.

But hearing that she was here unexpectedly still made my stomach twist.

Because people like Karen didn’t usually show up on Monday mornings for fun.

Kyan must have noticed my face because he sat up straighter immediately.

“Is everything okay?”

Dad gave a small nod, though I could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

“I’m sure it is. But before we go talk to her, I need you and your clone to run upstairs and get dressed really quick.”

Sarah frowned.

“Why?”

Mom answered before Dad could.

“Because grown-up paperwork is boring and nobody wants to start Monday with legal nonsense.”

Kyan made a face.

“That somehow sounds worse.”

“It probably is,” Dad admitted.

That made me laugh a little, even with the nervous knot growing in my chest.

Kyan stood and grabbed my wrist lightly.

“Come on. If Karen’s here, I’m not letting you walk into that alone.”

We headed upstairs quickly, and the second my bedroom door closed behind us, the silence felt heavier.

I pulled on a clean shirt while Kyan changed beside me, and neither of us said anything for a minute. The quiet gave my thoughts too much room, and that was never a good thing.

Finally, Kyan looked at me.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t really a question.

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

Because Karen showing up without warning usually meant something important.

Not bad, necessarily.

But important.

Serious.

The kind of conversation adults tried to soften before they dropped it on you.

I didn’t know why she was here.

That was almost worse.

Not knowing gave my brain too much room to fill in the blanks, and my brain was very good at turning silence into something terrifying.

Even standing in my own room, in my own house, with Kyan right there beside me, part of me still expected something to go wrong.

I still wasn’t used to feeling safe enough to trust that it wouldn’t.

Kyan stepped over and fixed the collar of my shirt like he needed something to do with his hands.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

I looked at him.

“We?”

He gave me a look like I had asked the dumbest question possible.

“You’re stuck with me, remember?”

That made me smile despite myself.

“Unfortunately.”

“Rude.”

He shoved my shoulder lightly, and for a second, it helped. Just enough to make breathing easier.

When we finally headed back downstairs, Mom and Dad were waiting by the front door. Dad gave me a quick reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before opening it.

And there she was.

Karen Stevens stood on the porch with her usual calm expression, a leather folder tucked under one arm. Beside her stood a man I didn’t recognize in a dark suit with a briefcase in one hand.

Karen smiled the second she saw me.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Some of the panic eased immediately.

“Hi, Karen.”

She stepped forward and hugged me first, and somehow that helped more than anything Dad or Kyan had said. Karen had always been safe. Calm. Steady. If she was here, then maybe this wasn’t the kind of disaster my brain was already trying to convince me it was.

When she pulled back, she glanced toward the man beside her.

“This is Mark Lutz,” she said gently. “He’s a lawyer, and unfortunately, we need to talk.”