Page 97 of Unbroken

I smile faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Someone should.” I tug the lock of hair. “Not that you can’t take care of yourself or anything.”

“Thank you,” she says with a laugh.

“Haven’t heard from your mother. How is she?”

“Seems kind of the same.” Ruthie looks off in the distance and bites her lip.

“Is anything bothering you?” I still can’t shake the feeling that she’s hiding something from me.

When she doesn’t protest right away, I feel myself growing more suspicious. “Ruthie.”

But she only shakes her head. “Just a lot on my mind right now. I think everything’s okay.”

She… thinks everything’s okay.

Fair enough. I won’t push her. I reach my hand to the back of her neck and massage her gently. Her eyes soften at the touch, a quiet moment between us. She sighs and leans back against me, her body settling into the comfort of the couch.For a moment, everything outside the room fades. It’s just us in the soft glow of a life that feels uncertain.

“You know,” she starts, her voice quieter, as if she’s carefully choosing her words. “Mariah… she was like a mother to me when my own mother started to… well, when the dementia started showing.” She pauses, a shadow crossing her features. “She used to take me to get my favorite candy just because she knew I liked it, even when I didn’t ask. She reminded me to do my homework and taught me how to drive. She didn’t let me carry the weight of everything like I had to when my mom wasn’t herself anymore.”

I can feel her heartache in the way her body tenses slightly. I want to say something comforting, but I know no words will ease it. Instead, I just hold her tighter.

“It’s almost like you lost more than a sister.”

She lost her whole family, her support, her rock, in one fell swoop.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “But… she was always there, always looking out for me. Even when I didn’t realize it.” Her voice cracks a little. “She was everything I needed.”

A heavy silence falls over us. The room is filled with nothing but the sound of our breathing and the gentle hum of the house settling around us. Out of habit, I click the video footage on my screen and see Luka peacefully sleeping.

Everything’s at rest. Peaceful.Right.

I want to tell her to stay. I want to tell her she has a place with us, that she can move in, and that it will be good for Luka.

Forme.

But I don’t want to push her too fast, too soon.

She looks over my shoulder at the video of Luka and smiles. “Sweet boy.”

After a few moments, Ruthie shifts again, turning her head slightly to look up at me. “How did you become such a good dad, Vadka?” she asks, her voice still tinged with that trace of sadness. “You had such a shitty example.”

I shrug. “You’re right, I did. I decided at an early age I wouldn’t be who my father was. It was easy enough sometimes. Others, it was learned behavior I had to reverse.” I shrug. “So I watched. I learned from the good ones. My uncle, for one. Even Rafail—he was like a father figure in his own way, especially after he had to become their guardian.”

“You learned from Rafail?” she asks, her eyebrow arching in mild disbelief.

I smile and nod. “Yeah. He’s rough around the edges, but he knows what matters.”

Ruthie smiles at that, a soft, affectionate expression. “Well, it worked. Luka’s lucky to have you.”

“Lucky to haveus,” I correct gently, nudging her with my shoulder.

She chuckles softly, her head leaning back against me. The weight of the world feels a little less heavy in these moments. I can feel her relaxing, her trust in me, in us, settling into something solid and grounding.

We sit there in silence for a while, the only sound the steadyrhythm of our breathing, as if time has slowed down just for us. It’s rare, these moments of peace.

But peace doesn’t last. It never does.

The Irish are coming. Ruthie is hiding something from me. She’s ready to run.