Sacha stood outside the interrogation room, his heart pounding. Behind the glass, you sat curled up in a chair, arms wrapped around yourself, staring blankly at the table. You looked so small, so fragile. His baby sister.

He swallowed hard, his hands shaking. He had spent 22 years searching for you. Twenty-two years of guilt, of nightmares, of hearing his mother’s sobs through the walls. He had vowed to find you, no matter what. And now, here you were—alive, but broken.

The test results had come back. A perfect match. The little girl he lost, the little girl he had left alone for only a few minutes, was now a grown woman, stolen from her family, raised in horror. His stomach twisted at the thought of what you had endured. He wanted to scream, to destroy the world for what it had done to you. But all he could do now was be here. Be your brother.

Taking a shaky breath, he stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and you flinched. His chest ached.

“Hey…” His voice was soft, careful. You didn’t look at him. “I—uh—there’s something I need to tell you.”

You were silent, your fingers gripping the sleeves of the oversized hoodie they had given you.

Sacha took another step, lowering himself to your level. “You’re not alone anymore.” His voice broke. “You have a family. A real family.”

Your eyes flickered up, uncertain, distant.

He forced a trembling smile. “You’re my little sister.”

Your breath hitched. A tear slipped down your cheek. And then another.

Sacha reached out, hesitated, then gently placed his hand over yours. “I’m so sorry. I never stopped looking for you.” His voice cracked. “I promise, you’re safe now.”

For the first time in years, you let yourself believe it.