Thomas woke to the feeling of a hand wrapped around his.

  He blinked, turned—and saw Shoshana lying beside him, smile soft and bright in the morning dim. She leaned in, brushed a quick kiss to his lips, then settled back with a triumphant grin.

  Shoshana: “My sister bet me I couldn’t go the whole of Yom Kippur without touching you.”

  Thomas: “Did they give you a reason?”

  Shoshana: “Something about us getting serious, so we need practice in self-control. Yom Kippur is supposed to be a trial run.”

  She smirked. “Tamar said if she bet you, she’d lose money for sure.”

  Thomas: “I think they have more confidence in me than I do in myself.”

  Shoshana rolled onto her back with a sigh.

  Shoshana: “Heads up—Dad or Iona, maybe both, are going to talk to you about more relationship rules. The laws of niddah. Basically, you’ll know my menstrual cycle, and there’ll be cool-down periods each month.”

  She waved a hand. “Not like we see each other that often anyway.”

  A voice cut in from the doorway.

  Tamar: “That is so cute. I cannot believe you let those two share a bed. What were you thinking, Iona?”

  Iona—tall, calm, arms folded—didn’t even look annoyed.

  Iona: “I was keeping an eye on them. They were fine. And you said nothing about them cuddling last week. If I recall, you joined in.”

  Tamar narrowed her eyes.

  Tamar: “Are you saying I did something inappropriate last week?”

  Yonah (stepping beside Iona, dry as salted toast): “Of course not. But you made the bet. And it was adorable hearing her explain the rules. I’m sure neither of them has grasped the full impact yet.”

  Tamar softened.

  Tamar: “Tzuriel, remember—it’s not a punishment. Dad talked to you about this, right? Building a foundation? Same conversation.”

  Thomas and Shoshana exchanged synchronized eye rolls.

  Yonah shifted his stance, tone quieting.

  Yonah: “Tomorrow’s going to be emotional. The SBSO has a ceremony for recognizing when someone becomes part of a family. Before that, you’ll stand before three men—just to confirm you want to join ours. Not simply as a brother, but as part of the larger house.”

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  He continued gently.

  Yonah: “After that, you’ll go into the mikvah—a ritual pool symbolizing washing off the old. Then you’ll be dressed in a new outfit. Don’t worry, they already have your size. Finally, you’ll stand again before the three men, and members of our family will make an oath to receive you. You’ll repeat an oath saying you want to belong with us.”

  Tamar placed her hands on her hips.

  Tamar: “Tzuriel, listen. We want you in our family even if Shoshana had zero interest in you.”

  Shoshana: “You’re mean.”

  Tamar: “No. I’ve seen his new hat.”

  Shoshana blinked.

  Shoshana: “What hat?”

  Tamar: “Yonah, toss it.”

  Yonah lobbed the new suli kippah to Thomas. He slipped it on, and Shoshana’s eyes went huge.

  Shoshana: “When did you get that?”

  Thomas: “Tuesday evening. I guess they thought I did something special helping out Mx. Mendez.”

  Shoshana: “José’s mom? She doesn’t speak English.”

  Thomas: “A little Spanish practice is finally paying off.”

  Shoshana rolled toward him, kissed him again, and Thomas pulled her close in a quick hug. She immediately sprang off the bed, suddenly flustered.

  Shoshana: “Okay, maybe you’re onto something with the rules.”

  Yonah chuckled.

  Yonah: “I know they seem ridiculous at first. But they’re rooted in something real.”

  Shoshana: “See you guys in the morning.”

  She and Tamar slipped out, heading down the hall.

  The room settled into stillness after they left.

  Thomas lay back, the new kippah on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.

  Yonah remained in the doorway—tall, sleeves rolled up, wearing that quiet, mischievous half-smile he pulled out whenever he knew more than he planned to say.

  Thomas lifted the kippah, turning it over between his fingers.

  Thomas: “You could’ve given me a heads-up about the hat.”

  Yonah: “And deny Shoshana that exact expression? I’m not that generous.”

  He pushed off the doorframe, dropping into the desk chair with an easy sprawl.

  Yonah: “Three hours with José’s mom. Holding her hand, translating every terrifying update from the doctors. You didn’t have to stay. But you did.”

  Thomas shrugged, embarrassed.

  Thomas: “My Spanish is still garbage. Lots of pointing. Lots of slow talking.”

  Yonah: “You gave a scared woman her dignity in a language she understood. Around here, that earns more than a hat.”

  He leaned forward.

  Yonah: “Tomorrow’s going to hit hard. Not because the steps are complicated—mikvah, beit din, oaths—but because once it’s done, it’s done. People are going to stand up and say, ‘You’re ours now.’ And you’re going to say it back. That’s not paperwork, bro. That’s forever.”

  Thomas exhaled slowly.

  Thomas: “I keep waiting for someone to hand me the normal-dating exit ramp. No rituals. No rules. No calendar telling me when I’m allowed to touch my girlfriend.”

  Yonah snorted.

  Yonah: “Exit’s wide open. You’re just not taking it.”

  A beat of silence. Then:

  Yonah: “You looked at my sister—at this whole crazy family—and decided the full Orthodox package was worth it. That’s not something you fake.”

  Thomas rubbed his eyes.

  Thomas: “I’m still one half-asleep cuddle away from needing a color-coded niddah cheat sheet taped to my forehead.”

  Yonah: “Been there.”

  He grinned.

  “We’ll get you the laminated version. Comes with threat of older-brother headlocks if you screw it up.”

  He stood, stretching.

  Yonah: “Get some sleep. Tomorrow you stop being the polite boyfriend sleeping on the couch.”

  He reached for the light switch.

  Thomas: “Yonah… thanks. For letting me stay in her room. For trusting me.”

  Yonah paused, glancing back, expression softening.

  Yonah: “Hands where I could see them, heart where it’s supposed to be. That’s all I needed.”

  He flicked off the light.

  Yonah: “Welcome to the mishpacha, Tzuriel. Try not to overthink it until the mikvah water hits you.”

  The room settled into darkness.

  Thomas set the scully cap on the nightstand, lay back, and—for the first time in a long while—the word home didn’t feel borrowed.

  It felt like his.