22. Tayana
22
TAYANA
R afi’s family is unlike any I’ve met before. It’s as if they’re all instruments in a symphony, each playing a part, never missing a beat. They’re loud and chaotic and happy, a perfect harmony that combines all the right notes to make spectacular music. The love and unity here are palpable, a stark contrast to the cold, calculating dynamics of my own family. Watching them, I feel like an outsider—a duck floundering in a sea of swans, struggling to keep up with their effortless rhythm.
Thursday night dinners are a tradition, I’m told, and tonight, I’m seated at the long dining table with all of them. Each brother has his significant other across from him, and I find myself directly opposite Rafi. It’s a coincidence—I think—but the curious glances cast in our direction from time to time suggest otherwise.
The table is overflowing with food, laughter, and inside jokes. Allegra, Scar’s wife, keeps the conversation lively, her wit sharp but never cruel. Lucky and Jacklyn exchange barbs that teeter between playful and flirtatious, their chemistry undeniable. Brando’s partner, Mia, has a quiet grace about her, but she holds her own in the banter, earning smiles of approval from everyone, including Rafi.
I sit stiffly, unsure of where I fit into all of this. I’ve been around powerful men and dangerous alliances my whole life, but this—this feels different. It’s not about dominance or control. It’s about family. Real family. You’d never know that these same men control a whole city and aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Or stained. With blood.
Rafi catches my eye across the table, and for a moment, his intense gaze softens. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in his expression—a quiet assurance that I belong here, even if I don’t believe it myself. I quickly look away, pretending to focus on my plate, but my heart betrays me with its quickened pace.
“So, Tayana,” Allegra says, pulling me into the conversation. “How did you and Rafi meet?”
The question catches me off guard, and I stammer for a moment before responding. “Uh, well, he’s…um...” I glance at Rafi, whose lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “The first time I saw him was at a club.”
“Where she shut me down so quick, I thought I’d walked into a freezer,” Rafi interjects smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
The table erupts in laughter, but I can’t help the heat that rushes to my face. “That’s not exactly how it happened,” I mutter, glaring at him.
“Oh, no? Please, enlighten us,” Lucky chimes in, smirking as he rests his elbows on the table, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“He caught me at a bad time,” I say, lifting my chin. “And I didn’t have time for distractions.”
Rafi’s grin widens. “Distractions, huh? So that’s what I was?”
“You still are,” I shoot back, surprising even myself with the boldness of my tone. The table goes silent for a beat before erupting again, Allegra nearly choking on her wine as Lucky slaps the table in amusement.
“You two are going to be fun to watch,” Jacklyn says, shaking her head with a knowing smile.
“Oh no, we’re not actually together,” I reply, indicating the space between us, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as a smile tugs at the corner of my lips.
Lucky leans forward again, his voice low and teasing, as though to relay a long held secret, before he grins and tells me, “Every woman sitting at this table thought the exact same thing the first time she took her seat. Now look at them.”
“Don’t mind him,” Rafi says. “He’s overcompensating.”
I roll my eyes, but the way Rafi’s gaze lingers on me sends a shiver down my spine. This family might thrive on chaos, but tonight, they’ve managed to pull me into their orbit, whether I’m ready for it or not.
The conversation shifts, and I exhale quietly, relieved to no longer be the center of attention. But the warmth at the table remains, wrapping around me like a blanket, even as I struggle to shake the feeling that I don’t deserve to be here.
Rafi leans forward, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “They love you, Tayana.”
I look up, startled by his reassurance. “I feel out of place.”
“You’re not,” he says simply, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. “Not here. Not with us.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself believe him.
After dinner, we huddle in little groups in the living room, enjoying our post dinner drinks. Brando’s wife Mia has been quiet throughout the night, but I don’t miss the way her eyes follow me around the room, until she finally approaches me and I understand her interest. As soon as she starts speaking, everything clicks into place and I remember that Rafi said he was looking for his sister in law’s missing sister.
“Is it true that you work with people who are victims of human trafficking?” she asks. “I heard the men talking.”
I wonder just how much she heard. I know that Rafi told me they’re not going to tell her about her sister’s sighting until they have something more concrete.
“I like to call them survivors,” I tell her. “And yes, I do work in that field.”
“That must be so interesting. Rewarding.”
“It is. And it isn’t. We don’t rescue as many as we lose.”
“But even saving one life, what that must feel like…” She speaks as though she’s in awe of me, and I know this must come from the loss of her sisters. She lost one to death, and the other to a system that takes no prisoners.
“The feeling is like no other,” I admit. “Knowing that we play a role, no matter how small, in helping someone overcome their trauma at the hands of another. People shouldn’t have to suffer that way.”
“No, they shouldn’t,” she says to me. “I’d like to maybe someday be able to do something similar.”
“Well, we’re always looking for volunteers,” I tell her. I lift a hand and place it on her arm, squeezing gently, letting her know that I understand her pain. “We could always use more people with heart, Mia.”
“If I showed you a picture of my sister, do you think you’d recognize her? Could you tell me if you’ve seen her before?” Mia’s voice trembles, her words raw and unsteady. “She was taken. Maybe… maybe you helped her?”
Her eyes glisten, and the weight of her desperation feels like a punch to my chest. She’s a woman drowning in sorrow, fighting to keep her head above water, clinging to a single thread of fragile hope. I swallow hard, struggling to find the right words when my own strength feels tenuous.
“Mia…” I begin, my voice softer than I intend. Her gaze pierces mine, filled with a quiet plea I know I can’t answer in the way she wants. “If I’d found your sister, if she’d crossed my path, she’d be with you right now. That’s what we do—it’s our purpose to reunite the displaced with their families.”
Her face falls, the faint flicker of hope dimming, and it guts me to see her like this.
“But listen to me,” I say firmly, leaning forward and lowering my voice as though sharing a sacred truth. “I’ve helped people who were missing for years—people everyone thought were lost forever. There’s always a chance. Don’t let go of that. If you lose hope, you lose the last thread connecting you to her. And that thread? It might be what pulls her back to you.”
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to cry, to scream, to collapse under the weight of her grief. But then she nods, slowly, as if she’s trying to will herself to believe me.
“That thread,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “It’s all I have left.”
“And it’s enough,” I say, though my chest feels tight with the enormity of what I’ve just promised her. “As long as you hold on to it, it’s enough.”
“Thank you.”
The low voice behind me makes me turn, and there stands Brando, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His expression is serious, but there’s a softness in his eyes that takes me by surprise.
“For what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He steps closer, his gaze sweeping over me, scrutinizing, as though trying to decide if I’m deserving of his gratitude. “Whatever you told Mia, it seems like she has a renewed sense of purpose. So, thank you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but words fail me. There’s a weight to his acknowledgment, one I hadn’t expected, and it pins me in place.
“She smiled,” he continues, his voice dropping even lower. “Really smiled—for the first time in months. I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing that until today.”
His confession hangs in the air between us, raw and unguarded. I glance away, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his vulnerability. “I just told her the truth,” I murmur. “That holding on to hope is sometimes all we’ve got.”
Brando nods slowly, his eyes fixed on mine as though searching for something unspoken. “You gave her more than hope,” he says after a pause. “You gave her something to fight for again.”
The gratitude in his voice is unmistakable, but it’s laced with something else—a quiet, almost brotherly protectiveness. It’s as if in this moment, he’s not just thanking me for Mia but for helping keep his family intact.
“I didn’t do much,” I say, though the lump in my throat betrays the weight I feel.
“You did enough,” Brando replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”
He lingers for a moment longer, his presence steady, before giving me a nod and stepping back toward the hallway.
I watch him disappear into the shadows of the house, his words echoing in my ears. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve truly done the right thing—if hope is enough to sustain Mia in a world this dark. But then I think of her smile, fragile yet defiant, and for now, that feels like a victory, no matter how small.