Kenan let out a loud breath, settled the keys in his palm, and stepped forward to hug his brother tightly.
“You’re… crazy. But you’re my kind of crazy. Thank you.”
The room filled with laughter, hugs, and jokes. Emira leaned closer to examine the bracelet and said with a smile:
“Well, now you really are going to make me so happy I won’t know what to do with myself.”
Once everyone had gathered at the table, Cross turned to his mother, took out a small velvet-covered case, and offered it to her.
“And this is for you, Mrs. Emira.”
She opened the box and went still. Inside lay a delicate brooch in the shape of a jasmine flower, studded with diamonds. The stones sparkled softly, catching the light from the hearth.
“A brooch…” she whispered. “Jasmine…”
“The flower that has always reminded me of you, Mom,” Cross said. “Resilient, gentle, and stubborn.”
Her fingers trembled slightly. Then he took out a second gift, a perfume bottle bearing a delicate engraving: Jasmina Noire.
“And this is so you can always keep the scent of your youth close.”
Emira pressed the brooch to her chest, then breathed in the perfume, her eyes shining through her tears.
“You remember everything…” she whispered with a happy smile.
“I don’t forget anything,” he replied quietly, smiling too.
At dinner, after Cross had rested from the long flight, they all sat together around the table. There was a feeling of comfort and family strength, as though the evening itself confirmed that their foundation could never be shaken.
“Remember when we stole Dad’s old rifle?” Kenan asked, holding his glass.
“You stole it!” Cross objected. “I covered for you.”
“Covered for me? You were shouting all over the forest that we were going to shoot witches!”
“It was a scientific experiment!”
“You split my eyebrow open with the rifle butt!”
“Not on purpose. I just wanted to give you a hug. A bit too suddenly.”
“With the rifle butt?”
Their father joined in after taking a sip of wine.
“And I thought the neighbors had stolen the rifle. I was going to call the police. So now I find out the truth. Wonderful, twenty years later! Never mind, I still have connections. I can have you locked up for a couple of days, just to keep you out of trouble.”
Their mother merely shook her head and grumbled as she sorted the napkins.
“You two again. One always starts it, the other covers for him. Nothing’s changed.”
“Of course,” Cross said with a grin. “We just do things on a bigger scale now.”
The children ran around the house. Esma brought in an apple pie, and Emira returned to her perfume, dabbing drops onto her wrist and breathing them in like a schoolgirl.
“This scent suits me so perfectly… Cross, you’re still my boy.”
He looked at her without speaking, his eyes holding more gratitude than words could express.
Meanwhile, the wine flowed easily as they talked. There was an extraordinary warmth, the kind found only in a home where everyone had once grown up wearing the same socks. They laughed, interrupting one another, and old stories surfaced on their own, as though they had been waiting beneath a pillow for their moment.
Their father poured himself more wine, leaned back, looked at his two sons, and suddenly said:
“Do you know what I remember most? Sneaking out through the shed with you at night so your mother wouldn’t notice.”
Emira rolled her eyes.
