Family Full Name
The morning started with a whisper of chaos—balloons rustling against the ceiling, the soft crackle of wrapping paper, and the unmistakable squeal of Laura's laughter echoing down the hallway. I blinked awake slowly, the warmth of the blanket still clinging to my skin, and rolled over to see the other side of the bed empty.
I frowned.
Rowan was gone.
I sat up and stretched, squinting as sunlight poured through the window. Before I could even swing my legs over the bed, the door creaked open and Larry peeked in, holding a tray with a crooked smile.
"Happy Birthday to us," he announced proudly.
Behind him, Laura clutched a handmade crown and a stuffed unicorn twice her size. They both wore shirts that said “BIRTHDAY LEGENDS” in glittery letters.
I blinked, stunned. "Wait—what's going on?"
"Daddy made pancakes," Larry said, walking the tray in like he was balancing gold.
Laura climbed on the bed. "And we get presents before the party. He said so."
I took the tray, heart already thudding. There were pancakes shaped like dinosaurs and stars, syrup on the side, and even a note folded neatly under the plate. I opened it.
"Meet me downstairs. For the twins. And for you. Happy Birthday, mama."
R
I pressed the note to my chest and exhaled.
Downstairs, the house had transformed. Streamers hung from the banisters, glitter scattered across the floor like a trail of magic, and a balloon arch stretched across the living room entryway in their favorite colors.
There was a small stage set up beside the TV, and in the kitchen—Rowan, in a black apron that read “Grill Sergeant,” was setting out cupcakes and bowls of jellybeans.
He turned, caught my stare, and smiled like a kid caught sneaking cake.
“Surprise,” he said simply.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The twins ran past me, already diving for the gifts under the makeshift throne Rowan had made out of two old armchairs and an obnoxious purple blanket.
“You did all this?” I asked quietly.
He nodded. “Wanted to see you smile again.”
My chest ached. I tried not to let it show.
Jo arrived not long after, balancing three boxes and her usual sarcasm. “Who allowed Rowan near this much glitter?” she asked, surveying the chaos. “This party has 'midlife crisis dad' written all over it."
Rowan threw her a look. "At least I didn't wrap the presents in old scrubs."
"They were clean!" she huffed.
Then, like the universe wanted to test me, Asher walked in.
He wore jeans and a soft white shirt, carrying a tiny wrapped box and a cautious smile.
Our eyes met. I didn't look away.
Jo, of course, couldn’t help herself.
“Oh, look at this emotional triangle. I’m just here for the fireworks.”
“Jo,” I warned.
She grinned and went to help Laura with her crown.
Asher came over, keeping his voice low. “I wasn’t sure I should come. But Rowan said it was okay.”
I nodded. “Thank you. For coming."
He handed me the box. I didn’t open it yet.
We stood there in a rare, awkward quiet.
Then I said it.
“I don’t want to keep pushing you away, Asher.”
He looked at me, waiting.
“I’m just... tired of hurting people. Every time I try to figure myself out, someone ends up bleeding."
He exhaled through his nose, a soft, almost bitter laugh.
“You think I came here to get chosen?” he asked. “Remi... I didn’t. I came because I still care. And because those kids think I’m funny. I’m not here to complicate your life.”
I swallowed hard.
“I’ll wait,” he added. “Even if you never choose me. I’ll still be your friend. I’m not going anywhere."
Before I could say anything else, Larry let out a triumphant yell.
"Mummy! Someone left a gift at the door!"
Rowan opened it with one hand, frowning. “No name?”
Larry held it out to me. A small box, wrapped in plain brown paper. I peeled it open slowly.
Inside was a black flash drive.
Taped across the top, in thin, blocky handwriting:
What your family didn’t want you to know.
For a long second, none of us spoke. The twins had gone back to their balloons, oblivious. The adults? Not so much.
Jo leaned in, squinting. "That looks... shady."
Rowan took the flash drive from my hand like it might bite him. "Do you want to see what’s on it?"
I nodded, slow. My pulse was ticking loud in my ears.
"Callum," Rowan called. "Do we still have that cassette-compatible player with USB input?"
From the kitchen, Callum replied, "We do. I use it for my old home movies. Why?"
"Need it. Now."
Ten minutes later, the device was set up on the coffee table. Rowan plugged in the drive, his movements precise, careful. Jo sat beside me, arms folded tightly.
The screen flickered to life.
Static. Then the image sharpened—not perfect, but clear enough.
A woman.
My breath caught.
She had my cheekbones. My posture. Her smile was sharper, though. Braver.
My mother.
But she wasn't alone.
A man stood beside her, tall and broad-shouldered, his back to the camera for the first few seconds. He turned slowly, laughing at something she said.
I didn’t recognize his face, but his presence—it filled the frame. Like someone who walked into a room and didn’t need to say a word to command it.
There was no label on the video, no date.
But the voice in the background—male, distant—said a name.
"Cedric."
The man.
My father.
The camera zoomed slightly as he leaned down and kissed my mother’s hand.
Jo whispered, stunned, "Remi... your mum... she knew someone powerful."
Rowan sat forward slowly, brows furrowed. "Cedric? Just Cedric?"
I nodded, numb. There was no surname. No title. But the way people looked at him, the way he carried himself—he wasn’t just anyone.
The footage cut off after a few more seconds. No explanation. No clues.
Just that moment.
That man.
And my mother’s eyes, glancing at the camera like she knew someone’d be watching one day.
The room fell into a deep, charged silence. The kind that didn’t need volume to feel loud.
I leaned back slowly, the weight of the flash drive somehow heavier now than it had been minutes ago.
Jo was the first to speak.
"That wasn’t just a man with power,” she said quietly. “That was someone important. You saw how she looked at him.”
I nodded, still staring at the screen even though it was black now.
“She looked like she was in love,” I whispered.
Rowan stood slowly. “And he… he looked like he was protecting something. Someone.”
“Your mother,” Jo added. “You. Maybe both.”
I blinked, my throat tightening. “But why hide him? Why erase this?”
No one answered.
Rowan crossed the room, pulling out his phone. “I’m going to call in a favor. Someone
I know at the records bureau owes me. If this Cedric was powerful, wealthy, or in politics... we’ll find him.”
Jo looked at me carefully. “What was your mother’s full name again?”
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