Rowan winced slightly at his words but stayed silent, his head bowed.
Satisfied, my cousin turned back to Nathan, his face transforming once again into a mask of affection. "Nathan, I ordered your favorite Ultraman cake. Tomorrow, I'll bring it over for your birthday."
"Thank you, Uncle," Nathan responded politely, his voice calm and composed, as though he had long grown used to my cousin's blatant favoritism.
Beside Nathan, Rowan hesitated, fidgeting nervously. His thin fingers clutched the frayed edges of his shirt as he summoned the courage to speak. "Dad," he stammered, "tomorrow is my birthday too. Could you… could you get me a new pair of shoes?"
His words hung in the air, fragile and hopeful.
My gaze fell to Rowan's feet, clad in sandals so worn out that they barely held together. The thin straps had frayed and the soles were almost completely eroded. I remembered they were Nathan's discarded sandals from last year, passed down to Rowan when my cousin declared that Nathan deserved new things while Rowan was only fit for hand-me-downs. Those sandals had endured rain, heat and now the biting chill of winter, leaving Rowan's small feet covered in red chilblains.
The room fell silent for a beat, but the hope in Rowan's eyes was quickly extinguished. My cousin's expression contorted with fury and he exploded. "You filthy brat! You're only good for wearing trash!"
His voice thundered, filling the room. Without warning, he raised his hand and struck Rowan across the face. The sharp slap echoed, leaving a red imprint on the boy's pale cheek.
"A birthday? Do you think you deserve that?!" My cousin's words were venomous and with each syllable, his fists found their mark.
"Stop it, please! He's just a child!" Hana cried, rushing forward to intervene.
Even Nathan dropped his toy and grabbed his father's arm, pleading, "Uncle, don't hurt him! Please stop!"
Perhaps fearing that his outburst would upset Nathan further, my cousin dragged Rowan by the arm, hauling him out of the house. The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the boy's faint cries of pain as the winter wind swallowed him.
***
The next morning was Rowan and Nathan's birthday. It should have been a day of joy, a double celebration of life. But when my cousin arrived at the door, bearing an extravagant cake and brightly wrapped gifts, only Nathan's name was on his lips.