The School Bully Made My Life Hell for a Year. Then I Found Out We Have the Same Mother. Chapter 2

Thanks to that pocket watch, I actually got to go home early for once.

Walking home, the autumn wind was freezing.

My hoodie was half-soaked with dirty water, making the chill bite straight through to my bones.

But I barely felt it, because my mind was an absolute hurricane.

Every time I blinked, I saw the photo inside that watch.

That gentle, beautiful woman was my mother. A younger version of my mother.

But who was the little boy she was holding?

Was it Tristan?

How did they know each other?

I had always known my mom had been married once before, and that she had a child from that marriage.

I was the child she had with my dad after she remarried.

My parents never kept that a secret from me.

But my brain physically could not connect the dots between the terrifying Tristan and my mother's first child...

But if... if Tristan really was my older half-brother, then every single unanswered question I had finally made sense.

Why did he target me? Why did he bully me?

Because my mother abandoned him. So he hated me.

Why did he always threaten me after beating me up, telling me never to tell my family?

He always said his family was rich and powerful, and that he could get my mom's flower shop shut down with a single phone call...

But it wasn't a threat. It was fear.

He was terrified I would tell my mom.

He was terrified my mom would find out what he was doing to me!

The more I thought about it, the faster my heart hammered against my ribs.

I started sprinting, the cold wind clearing my head.

I had to ask my mom. I had to know the truth!

A walk that usually took twenty minutes took me ten. I practically kicked the front door open.

My mom looked up from the dining table, surprised. "You're home early today?"

Every day, to hide the bullying and keep my mom from worrying, I lied and told her I stayed after school in the library to study.

And to hide the evidence, I always aggressively pulled my long sleeves down to cover the bruises on my arms before I walked through the door.

My mom wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at me. "Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready."

Her eyes paused on my hair. "Why are your clothes and hair wet?"

"I... some lady was watering her plants on a balcony and accidentally spilled the watering can on me."

"Go take a hot shower right now so you don't catch a cold."

I nodded, dropped my backpack, and grabbed some clean clothes from my room.

By the time I came out of the shower, my mom had set the table.

My dad was out of state on a business trip, so it was just the two of us this week.

I sat at the table, looking at my mom's gentle face, hesitating.

"Mom, I have a question to ask you."

My mom put a piece of roasted chicken onto my plate. "Eat it while it's hot. What's the question?"

I chewed on my lip, but finally forced the words out. "Mom, do I have an older brother? What's his name?"

My mom's hand froze holding her fork. The smile on her face stiffened.

"Why are you asking about this all of a sudden?"

"Just... curious."

My mom went completely silent. She barely ate two bites for the rest of dinner.

I immediately regretted it.

I shouldn't have asked. I had ruined her mood.

But after dinner, my mom called me into her bedroom.

She handed me an old photograph.

"His name is Tristan. He was my first child."

I took the photo, my hands visibly shaking.

This photo... it was the exact same photo that was inside Tristan's pocket watch.