His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 341: A Brother's Embrace

Brandon took the phone back from her hands. "Here, let me get a picture of you. Side by side, I bet you'll see it even clearer—you look just like my mom."

Iris didn't object. She offered a warm, natural smile—the same kind of open, genuine expression the woman in the photo had—and let him snap a few shots.

Just then, Julian stepped out of his room. He paused by the doorway, his gaze fixed on the two of them out on the balcony. He didn't move, didn't speak. His expression was shadowed, unreadable.

A conflict stirred inside him. Part of him wanted to walk over and cut in, but he held back. Yet leaving felt just as impossible.

Brandon, hands trembling slightly with excitement, showed Iris the photo he'd just taken. "Look," he said, voice soft but urgent. "Put them together... see how much they match?"

Iris studied the two images side by side. A storm of emotions swirled in her chest, leaving her unsettled for a long moment.

"My sister was taken the day she was born," Brandon said, his grip gentle but firm on her arm. He leaned in, meeting her eyes squarely. "What if Ethan's mother was the one who took her? Is it possible she stole my sister—that she stole you?"

Iris' eyes grew damp, tears gathering along her lashes. "After we wrap things up here... why don't we go back and do a DNA test? Just to be sure."

"Yeah," Brandon replied, his voice thick. He pulled her into a hug. "It has to be you. My dad met you too—he always liked you. Said right away you reminded him of Mom."

Iris didn't pull away. She hugged him back, giving a light pat on his shoulder. "We've known each other all this time," she murmured, curiosity softening her tone. "How come you never said anything before?"

Brandon let out a mix of a laugh and a shaky breath. "You and Ethan are twins. I couldn't just bring it up without proof—you wouldn't have believed me. And I didn't want to point fingers at your mom for no reason, stir up trouble where there might be none."

Iris smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. "Dr. Whitmore... if you really are my brother, I'd be so happy."

"Then call me Brandon," he said gently. "Forget 'Dr. Whitmore' for now."

"Shouldn't we wait for the test results?"

Brandon drew back just enough to look at her again, hands on her shoulders. "It doesn't even matter what the test says. From the first day we met, you've felt like family. I've always envied Ethan, having you." He gave her a tearful smile. "Just call me brother from now on, okay?"

Iris smiled but stayed quiet, still a little shy, emotion glistening in her eyes.

Brandon reached up and carefully wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know it's you. I can feel it. We've always just... clicked, haven't we?"

Iris nodded, her smile sweet and sure.

From the doorway, Julian watched, his fingers curling tightly into his palm without him realizing.

On the balcony, the two embraced, shared quiet laughter, and Brandon wiped her tears with a familiarity that seemed effortless.

To Julian, the sight was like a poison-tipped arrow straight through the chest.

He didn't have it in him to walk over and interrupt. Slowly, he turned, pushed the door open, and stepped back into the room.

Every suspicion he'd tried to bury now stared back at him, confirmed in a way that left him hollow.

Late that night, when Iris finally came back to the bedroom from the living room, the lights were already off.

Julian lay facing away from the door, his breathing even as if he were deeply asleep.

But he knew the moment she pushed the door open—every muscle in his body went tense.

He listened as she moved quietly to the closet, the rustle of fabric as she changed into her sleepwear, then the gentle dip of the mattress as she slipped under the covers.

Every second was its own kind of ache.

The memory of that embrace on the balcony replayed in his mind—Brandon holding her face, brushing away her tears, the two of them smiling at each other. It felt like a dull blade twisting over and over in his heart.

What hurt more was knowing he had no real right to step in and stop it.

They looked right together. Natural.

"Julian?" Iris whispered into the dark.

He kept his eyes closed, breathing steady, pretending to be asleep.

He could feel her gaze on his back for several seconds before she let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.

The mattress shifted as she turned over, now facing away from him.

Outside, a crescent moon hung just above the treetops, casting a cool, silent light over a restless night.

The next morning, when Iris woke, his side of the bed was empty.

The comforter was neatly folded at the foot of the bed, as though no one had slept there at all.

She reached out and touched the sheets—they were cool.

From the kitchen came soft, quiet clatters. Iris slipped on her bathrobe and headed out, only to find Julian fixing breakfast—creamy seasoned oatmeal with fresh toppings, exactly the kind she loved.

He wore a dark grey henley, and in the early morning light, his profile looked sharp, his jaw tight.

"Morning," Iris said softly.

Julian didn't turn. "Milk's on the table."

His voice was lower than usual, edged with a rough, tired quality.

Iris walked to the dining table and saw a glass of milk beside a small plate of freshly cut fruit—all her favorites.

That careful detail warmed something in her chest, but the distance in his posture left her uneasy.

"Did you sleep alright last night?" she ventured.

Julian hesitated for a half-second. "Yeah. Fine."

He finally turned, but his eyes didn't quite meet hers. "I need to head out for a bit today. Might be back late."