“Mom, please just tell me what's going on,” I urged, my heart racing. “I can handle it. I promise.” She sighed deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she looked at me. “Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me.” “I promise,” I said, leaning closer. With a shaky breath, she began, “The man who's been calling and visiting… he's your father. I left him when I found out I was pregnant with you. I thought it was best for both of us.” My mind raced as I processed her words.
“My father? But why now? Why is he coming back?”
“Because he wants to reconnect. He never stopped looking for us,” she explained, her voice trembling. I felt a swirl of emotions—anger, confusion, and a strange sense of longing. “Do you want to see him?” “I don't know,” she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. “Part of me wants to know why he left, but another part is scared of reopening old wounds.” I took a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around everything. “What about me? Do I get a say in this? I mean, I've never known him. It feels so surreal.” My mom nodded slowly, wiping away a tear. “You're right.
This affects you too. I just didn't want to drag you into the chaos of my past.” “Mom, I want to understand,” I said firmly. “If he's really my father, then I deserve to know him. But we need to do this together. You can't face this alone.” She looked at me, her expression softening. “You're so brave, Ciena. I'm sorry for keeping this from you.” Just then, the phone rang, and we both jumped. My heart raced as I glanced at the caller ID—it was my mom's old phone number. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the screen. “It could be him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Answer it,” I urged, feeling a mix of anxiety and curiosity. “We need to know.” With trembling fingers, she accepted the call.
“Hello?” she said cautiously. There was a pause, and I could see the color drain from her face. “Ciena, it's time to talk,” the voice on the other end said, deep and familiar. My heart raced as I realized this was my father.
“Why now?” my mom asked, her voice shaking. “After all these years?” “Because I've changed. I want to make things right,” he replied. “I want to meet you both.” I felt a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, and a hint of hope. “Mom, what do we do?” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. She glanced at me, her eyes wide with uncertainty. “I... I don't know. It's been so long.
Can we trust him?” “We won't know unless we give him a chance,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “But we should go into this together, as a family.” My mom took a deep breath, visibly gathering her thoughts. “Okay. Let's meet him. But we need to set some boundaries. This is still very raw for both of us.” I nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of solidarity with her. “We can do this, Mom. We're stronger together.”
After hanging up the call, we sat in silence for a moment, processing everything that had just happened.
“When do you want to meet him?” I asked. “How about next weekend?” she suggested. “It gives us time to prepare.” “Sounds good,” I replied
TBC