The call lasted for almost ten minutes.
Ten minutes.
And if anyone had asked me what I said during those ten minutes, I would have struggled to give them a proper answer.
"Yes, Mom."
"No."
"Okay."
"When?"
"Alright. I'll get things done quickly."
That was practically the entire conversation.
I sat on the edge of the sofa with my phone pressed against my ear, my eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Every now and then, I would glance at Nina, who had abandoned whatever she was doing on her phone and was now watching me with an expression that grew more curious by the second.
I could feel her questions from across the room.
Who was calling?
Why was I speaking so differently?
Why did I look as though someone had just handed me news I wasn't prepared to receive?
But I couldn't answer any of them. Not yet.
There were things I hadn't thought about in years. Memories I had carefully pushed into a corner of my mind, convincing myself that ignoring them was the same as moving on.
Apparently, the past didn't always agree with our decisions.
"Okay, Mom. I'll call you back."
I ended the call.
For a moment, I remained where I was, staring at the screen as though the phone might ring again and tell me I had misunderstood everything.
Then I heard her.
"Your mom?"
Nina's voice was quiet, but there was something beneath it. It wasn't quite a question. It sounded more like she was trying to confirm something she had already begun to suspect.
I looked up.
She was standing beside the sofa now, her phone forgotten in her hand.
"Yeah," I answered.
"Your mom?"
I nodded.
She stared at me for another second before turning towards the staircase.
I watched her take the first step.
"Nina?"
She didn't stop.
I stood up immediately and caught her hand before she could climb any further.
"Hey."
She turned around, and I gently guided her back towards the wall beside the staircase, more to stop her from walking away than anything else.
"Yes," I said slowly, looking directly into her eyes. "My mom."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I continued.
"I told you about my parents on our first date, remember? I told you they live in London."
Her expression changed.
The surprise in her eyes slowly gave way to something else. Confusion, perhaps. Or disbelief.
She gently pulled her hand away from mine and walked towards the sofa.
"Yeah, I kind of remember that," she said, lowering herself onto the cushion. "Oh, my goodness, Ethan. It's been years. You haven't mentioned them since. They haven't called, you haven't called them, and now your mother suddenly calls you out of nowhere?"
She looked up at me.
"And you expect me to feel normal about that, babe?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
It was strange.
For so long, I had been the one asking questions. The one trying to understand the silences, the strange reactions and the things Nina refused to explain.
Now, the roles had changed.
I was the one with the secret.
I was the one whose past had suddenly walked into the room without knocking.
And for the first time, I understood how uncomfortable it could be to sit across from someone you loved while knowing there was an entire part of their life you had never been allowed to see.
I rubbed my palms together and took a breath.
"Okay. I think I owe you an explanation."
"That would be a good place to start."
I almost smiled at her response, but the expression disappeared before it could settle.
I sat beside her.
"My family is... complicated."
Nina folded her legs beneath her and turned towards me.
"That's usually what people say before telling you something complicated."
I exhaled.
"My parents used to be one of the most prominent families in town. Not just because of money or influence. Almost everyone in my family was in medicine. My father was a respected doctor, and for a long time, it was simply understood that I would follow the same path."
I paused, remembering how often I had heard those words growing up.
You'll become a doctor, Ethan.
It had never been presented as a suggestion.
It was an expectation.
"My father had plans for me. He had everything mapped out. The schools I would attend, the people I would associate with, the kind of career I would build. In his mind, I was already a doctor long before I even understood what I wanted to become."
Nina listened without interrupting.
"But then something happened. A controversy involving my father and his professional practice became public. It was serious enough that his medical licence was revoked. Everything changed after that. His reputation, the family's standing, the way people treated us..."
I looked down at my hands.
"People who once respected him suddenly had opinions. People who used to visit our house stopped coming around. Our family name became something people whispered about."
I swallowed.
"My parents eventually moved away from town. But before that happened, I had already made a decision that made things worse between my father and me."
"What decision?"
"I didn't want to become a doctor."
Nina's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"I wanted to study law. I wanted to build a life that belonged to me, not one that had been planned for me before I was old enough to make a choice."
"And your father didn't accept that?"
I shook my head.
"Not even close."
I could still remember the argument.
The raised voices. The disappointment. The way my father looked at me as though I had deliberately thrown away everything he had worked for.
"He saw it as rebellion. He thought I was disrespecting him and everything the family stood for. I tried explaining that I wasn't rejecting him. I was simply choosing myself. But he didn't want to hear it."
I leaned back against the sofa.
"Things got worse until he practically disowned me. I left home, and for a while, Henry was the person who gave me somewhere to stay. We were both younger then, still figuring life out. He helped me more than he probably knows."
Nina's face softened.
"I stayed with him for some time, finished school, and eventually built my own life. Years later, my parents moved out of the United States and settled in London."
I paused.
"That was about seven years ago."
"Seven years?" Nina repeated.
"Yes."
"And you haven't spoken to them since?"
"Not properly. Not in a way that mattered."
I looked at her.
"I was hurt, Nina. I was angry. And after a while, I got used to not having them around. I told myself I didn't need to keep reaching out to people who had made it clear they didn't want me around."
She remained quiet.
"I didn't know whether they were waiting for me to apologise or whether they had simply moved on. And honestly, I stopped caring enough to find out."
I let out a breath.
"Until today."
Nina's eyes searched my face.
"What did she say?"
I looked away for a moment.
"She said Dad is sick."
The room became quiet.
Not the comfortable kind of silence we often shared. This one felt heavier.
"How sick?" she asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"She said it's serious."
"Serious how, Ethan?"
I hesitated.
"She said he doesn't have much time left."
Nina's lips parted slightly.
I continued before I could lose the courage to say it.
"Apparently, his condition has gotten worse. She said he's been asking for me. She wants me to come to London and see him."
I gave a short, humourless laugh.
"Seven years of silence, and now I'm suddenly being asked to come home."
I didn't know what I expected Nina to say.
Perhaps she would ask why I was considering going. Perhaps she would remind me of how badly my father had treated me. Maybe she would tell me that I didn't owe anyone anything simply because they had suddenly decided they wanted me around.
I was prepared for questions.
I was prepared for hesitation.
I was even prepared for her to tell me that travelling to London at such short notice would be inconvenient.
But I wasn't prepared for what happened next.
Nina took a slow breath.
Then another.
Her eyes softened in a way I hadn't seen before, and the expression on her face changed completely. There was no judgement in it. No suspicion. Just an unmistakable sadness, the kind that comes from imagining someone you love carrying a pain you never knew existed.
"Oh, my baby."
She moved closer.
"Come here."
Before I could respond, she wrapped her arms around me.
I froze for half a second.
Then I held her.
Her cheek rested against my chest, and her hand moved gently across my back.
"I'm sorry, Ethan," she whispered.
I closed my eyes.
"It's okay."
"No, it's not."
She pulled back just enough to look at me.
"You've been carrying all of that by yourself?"
I shrugged.
"I suppose I got used to it."
"That's not the same as being okay."
Her words were simple, but they settled somewhere deep inside me.
I looked at her.
For a moment, I couldn't find anything to say.
I had expected her to be curious about the family I had never spoken about. I had expected questions about the money, the controversy, my father and the years of silence.
Instead, she had looked beyond all of that and seen the person sitting beside her.
The person who had once needed somewhere to sleep.
The person who had spent years pretending that being alone was a choice rather than something he had been forced to accept.
And somehow, that made her embrace feel different.
I had always known Nina could be sweet. I had seen it in the way she cared for people, the way she remembered little things about me and the way she could turn an ordinary day into something worth remembering.
But that afternoon, I saw another side of her kindness.
The kind that doesn't demand explanations before offering comfort.
She kissed my cheek.
"You're not alone, okay?"
I nodded.
She held my hand for a few seconds before suddenly sitting upright.
"Wait."
I looked at her.
"What?"
"We need to talk to the boss."
I frowned.
"About what?"
"Leave."
"Leave?"
"Yes, Ethan. Leave. We're going to London."
I stared at her.
"We?"
She gave me a look as though I had just asked the most unnecessary question in the world.
"Yes. We."
"Nina..."
"No, don't start."
I laughed softly.
"Babe, listen to me. This isn't exactly a weekend trip. London is expensive, and travelling at short notice isn't something we planned for. We have bills, responsibilities and other things to sort out. It could cost us a lot."
She tilted her head.
"And?"
"And we could end up spending money we haven't planned to spend."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay. And we're still going."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
"You're not making this easy."
"Good."
She moved closer and held both my hands.
"Ethan, you can't go there without me."
Her voice was softer now.
"I won't let you face your family alone, especially after everything you've just told me. Whatever happens when we get there, whatever conversations you need to have with your father, I want to be there."
She paused.
"And I can't just stay here pretending everything is normal while you're thousands of miles away dealing with all of this."
She smiled.
"You are everything I have here, babe. I'm not going to let you walk into something like this without someone beside you."
I stared at her.
There was something about the certainty in her voice that made it difficult to argue.
"But the money..."
"Ethan."
"What?"
"I have some extra savings."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Since when?"
"Since I started being responsible."
I laughed.
"That's a very interesting development."
"Don't annoy me."
She playfully pushed my shoulder.
"Besides, I haven't taken a proper vacation since I got promoted. And I think we deserve one, don't you?"
I opened my mouth, but she wasn't finished.
"After everything we've been through, I think we deserve some time away. We work too hard, and I think it's about time we took a proper break. Besides, the firm owes us, right?"
I shook my head.
"The firm owes us?"
"Absolutely."
She nodded with complete seriousness.
"We work too hard. We deserve a break."
I couldn't help laughing.
There she was.
The same Nina who could turn a serious conversation into an argument about paid leave. The same woman who could be stubborn enough to make me question whether I had ever won an argument with her.
But beneath the humour, I understood what she was offering.
She wasn't simply suggesting a trip.
She was telling me that whatever waited for me in London, I wouldn't have to face it alone.
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Are you sure?"
She squeezed my hands.
"Completely."
I let out a quiet breath and nodded.
"Okay."
Her face brightened.
"Okay?"
"Yes, baby. We'll go to London."
She smiled so widely that I found myself smiling too.
"Good. Now, let's call the boss before you change your mind."
I laughed and pulled her into another hug.
For the first time since the phone rang, the tightness in my chest began to ease.
***
The following weeks became a mixture of excitement, planning and the kind of chaos that comes with preparing for an unexpected journey.
Nina took charge almost immediately.
She called the office, spoke to the necessary people and began arranging our leave. I handled the calls concerning my parents, confirmed the details of the trip and started sorting out the things I would need to take along.
There were documents to arrange, clothes to pack, appointments to reschedule and a surprising number of little things we hadn't considered until they became necessary.
Nina, naturally, had a list for everything.
She made sure our passports were ready, checked our travel documents repeatedly and somehow found time to remind me that I still hadn't decided what shoes to take.
"You have three pairs of shoes," she complained one evening, standing beside our open suitcase. "Why are you looking at them as if they're going to answer you?"
"I'm trying to decide."
"Decide what? They're shoes, Ethan."
"Some of us take our appearance seriously."
She looked at me.
"Some of us?"
I grinned.
She rolled her eyes and returned to folding her clothes.
Watching her prepare for the journey was strangely comforting. She moved around the bedroom with the confidence of someone who had already decided that we were going to be fine.
Sometimes, I would catch her looking at me while I worked through the arrangements.
Whenever I asked what was wrong, she would simply smile and tell me to continue what I was doing.
But I knew she was thinking.
Perhaps she was wondering what my parents were like. Perhaps she was imagining what it would be like to meet the people who had raised me. Or perhaps she was simply trying to understand the part of my life I had kept hidden from her.
I wondered about those things too.
I wondered whether my father would still look at me with the same disappointment.
Whether my mother would hug me.
Whether the house would look the same.
Whether seven years was enough time for two people to become strangers.
And most importantly, I wondered what I would say when I finally stood in front of the man who had once been the centre of my world.
I didn't have the answers.
But I had Nina.
And somehow, that made the journey feel a little less frightening.
One evening, while we were putting the final things into our suitcases, Nina walked over to me and rested her head against my shoulder.
"Excited?" she asked.
I looked down at her.
"Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"I'm nervous."
She nodded slowly.
"That's okay."
I turned towards her.
"What if things don't go the way I hope?"
She took my hand.
"Then we'll deal with it when we get there."
"What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"Then he'll have to explain that to the son he's been asking for."
I chuckled.
"You make everything sound so simple."
"Because some things don't need to be complicated."
She reached up and kissed my cheek.
"Whatever happens, Ethan, remember that you're not going there alone."
I looked at her and smiled.
"I know."
But even as I said it, a part of me remained unsettled.
Seven years was a long time to stay away from home.
And some wounds didn't disappear simply because we stopped touching them.
I was returning to a family I had once believed I could live without. A father whose approval I had spent years pretending I no longer wanted. A mother whose voice I hadn't heard in longer than I cared to admit.
And Nina was coming with me.
I didn't know what awaited us in London.
I didn't know whether the journey would bring reconciliation, disappointment or answers to questions I had buried long ago.
All I knew was that we were going.
And sometimes, the hardest journeys aren't the ones that take us somewhere new.
They're the ones that take us back to the places we spent years trying to forget.