Chapter 4

"Brother..." Tommy tried to grab David's sleeve, but his older brother yanked him out of the room.

David tiptoed to the main hall doorway but hesitated to enter. He stood on his toes, peeking through the crack in the door.

"David? Where's your brother?"

Emily's heart sank when she spotted the small head poking through the door. In her memories, the male lead had just left for work, but this child didn't look five at all. His tiny frame was swallowed by a patched gray shirt, his face smudged with dirt, and his cloth shoes worn through, revealing grimy toes.

He was so thin!

David strained on his tiptoes but could only see the edge of the table. Yet the mouthwatering aroma filled his nose, making him swallow hard.

"Mom..." he whispered timidly, though his eyes remained fixed on the table.

"Go get Tommy. Let's eat together," Emily said gently, forcing a smile.

David clenched his shirt. Bring his brother? What if Mom changed her mind again?

But she had smiled at him today! Ever since Dad left, she rarely smiled at them. Sometimes she wouldn't cook all day, and they'd have to scavenge for wild berries or sneak to their grandparents' for food.

"Go on. I promise I won't hit you." Seeing his hesitation, Emily's heart ached. What had the original owner done to make this child so afraid?

David bit his lip. Fine—he'd take the risk! If they got beaten, he'd shield Tommy.

He dashed back to the room, dragging Tommy toward the main hall. Tommy shrank back in fear, but his brother pulled him forward.

Now Emily saw Tommy clearly—a scrawny little thing drowning in oversized clothes, his face so dirty she could barely make out his features.

Growl— Both boys' stomachs rumbled in unison.

"Mom..." Tommy hid behind David, his voice barely audible.

Emily sighed. "Let's eat first."

The boys climbed onto their stools and saw small bowls of milky liquid and a few pastries set before them.

"This is powdered milk, and some treats from town. I'll make something better for dinner." Emily winced inwardly—her cooking skills were nothing to brag about.

The boys exchanged glances and made a silent pact—eat first, worry later! Even if they got beaten, at least they'd be full!

As the first sip of warm milk slid down his throat, the rich creaminess exploded in David's mouth. For a fleeting moment, he remembered—the last time he'd tasted something this good was when Dad bought that can of powdered milk after Tommy was born.