Silence.
Silence fell over Nathan's suite. The only sound was the steady hum of the AC blasting cool air into an otherwise suffocating room.
Nathan sat at the desk, eyes locked on the termination agreement between HUB and Cubix. One signature. That was all it needed. One stroke of a pen, and it would be final. He could leave this city—the hell it had become for him—and never look back.
But the paper remained untouched.
He couldn't bring himself to sign it.
It should've been easy. Logical. Clean. Walk away, cut ties, start over.
So why did his hand feel so heavy?
His gaze drifted to his phone. The same message glowed on the screen—the one that had consumed him for days. He had read it so many times the words were etched into his mind.
"I know you don't want to ever talk to me, and I will respect that,
but I hope you can at least give me a chance to sincerely apologize
for all the times I wasn't there for you.
I really tried to be there, but I guess it's already too late.
Love, Mom."
His first message from her. Ever.
His younger self would have exploded with happiness over something this simple—a text. This was all he used to pray for.
Nathan prided himself on being strong-minded and logical, and yet the smallest act—this message—broke straight through the armor he'd built.
A thought crept in slowly, quietly.
Maybe I can leave with peace of mind.
He knew he ran away because he was terrified to show how vulnerable he truly was. Terrified that if he forgave too quickly, all those years of pain, anger, and abandonment would suddenly mean nothing.
He brushed his thumb across the screen, eyes softening with something like longing.
Then, in his chest, a faint spark of hope flickered.
Maybe I can try to see her. Not to welcome her back completely… but to confront her. To let her know how much I hurt. To finally get answers to everything I never understood.
For the first time in days, Nathan typed out a reply.
He didn't overthink it. He didn't reread it. He just hit send before his fear caught up with him.
Her response came almost immediately.
She was overjoyed, her relief bleeding through the short reply. She sent him an address—her address.
The boy inside Nathan could barely contain himself. The one who used to imagine her somewhere out there, unreachable, now held the information he had longed for since he was small.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
He didn't waste any more time.
On the drive over, his heart pounded like a child rushing home to see his mother after a long day.
He pulled up to a modest little house—a plain front porch, a small yard with flower beds in full bloom, and a bird feeder hanging in the corner. It was exactly the kind of place he imagined she might live—quiet, simple, gentle.
He walked up to the door and rang the bell.
It opened slowly.
When Ms. Davies realized who was standing there, her knees nearly gave out. Tears spilled instantly down her cheeks as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. She clung to him, trembling, sobbing, whispering silent prayers of thanks.
Nathan broke down as well.
He had expected rage. Bitterness. Accusations.
Instead, all he felt was relief.
He hadn't realized how desperately he wanted this until it was happening.
Ms. Davies welcomed him in. As Nathan crossed the threshold, nostalgia hit him so hard it almost knocked the wind out of him.
The faint smell of baking.
A hint of old perfume.
Frames on the wall filled with photos—of him as a boy.
On a nearby shelf, small toys and keepsakes. His toys.
All this time, he had cursed her. Called her every cruel name in his head. Hated her for abandoning him.
Yet here she was… living in a shrine of his childhood.
"Come sit down," Ms. Davies said warmly, guiding him toward a cozy living room. "This is your home too. Don't feel like a stranger."
She fussed for a moment, then clasped her hands.
"Wait here. Let me get you something to drink. How about the juice I always used to make you—and your favorite muffins?"
"I can help you," Nathan offered reflexively.
"Just sit," she said with a smile that held years of yearning. "Let me do it."
He obeyed.
She returned with a tray—powdered orange juice in a glass, and a plate of blueberry muffins baked from scratch.
The same combination from his childhood.
The safest memory he had.
Nathan took a bite and was transported back in time, to a version of himself who hadn't yet built all these walls. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he chewed.
Then he stopped.
"Why did you give up on me?" he asked, voice raw. "Why did you leave me?"
"I didn't," Ms. Davies replied instantly, clearly. "I never gave up on you."
She stood and walked to a shelf, pulling down several binders. She laid them out in front of him. Nathan opened them one by one.
Legal papers. Court records. Lawyer correspondence.
"Your dad took you from me," she explained, her voice trembling. "I was working as a flight attendant. We had our issues, yes, but I trusted him. While I was out of the country, he filed a restraining order against me—with no grounds. It took time for me to get back and fight it. By the time I did, he had already filed for full custody."
Tears streamed down her face.
"I fought, Nathan. I really did. But he had the advantage. Once he had full custody, he took away every right I had to you. That's how he was able to take you out of the country. I tried to follow, but I had no way, no resources. I searched as far as I could reach."
Nathan stared at the papers, at the desperation hidden in legal text and court stamps. It didn't erase the ache of his childhood—but it shattered the story he had believed.
The hatred.
The pain.
The anger he had carried for so long—
began slipping through his fingers.
"I'm so sorry, dear," Ms. Davies sobbed. "I wish I had never left you with your dad. I wish I'd fought harder sooner. None of this should've happened to you."
Nathan couldn't speak.
He did the only thing his heart knew how to do.
He leaned in and hugged her.
All the unanswered questions, all the years of silence, all the cold nights of feeling unwanted… slowly loosened their grip.
For the first time in his life, he felt something like peace settling into his bones.
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking. She confessed how she kept buying him birthday and Christmas presents every year, even though she had nowhere to send them. She joked about how it made her look like a hoarder.
Nathan told her about his school days, his achievements, the life he built. He told her about Marv—his best friend, his chosen brother.
He felt… different.
Lighter.
Complete.
Then Ms. Davies said softly, almost to herself, "Celine was right all along…"
Nathan's heart snapped to attention at her name.
"She said you'd come around one day," Ms. Davies continued, eyes warm with fondness. "Even though she was hurting, she tried to comfort me. That sweet girl only spoke about your good heart. She believed in you, Nathan. Truly."
Nathan's chest tightened painfully.
Celine.
He loved her more than anything. More than words, more than logic, more than his own pride.
But how could he face her now?
After hurting her.
After abandoning her when she needed him most.
How was he any better than Dean?
He stayed as long as he could, but eventually he had to go. His mom urged him to stay longer, but he wanted her to rest. He promised he'd visit again. Or better yet, fly her out to see where he lived.
Her face lit up like a sunrise.
When he returned to the hotel, something in him had settled.
He picked up the termination agreement, read it carefully this time… and signed.
It was time to go.
He called Marv.
"Hey," Nathan said, a quiet contentment in his voice. "I'll be flying out in two days. I signed the termination agreement—and I made amends with my mom."
"That's great, dude!" Marv replied, genuinely happy. "I'm just glad you finally fixed things with her. Plus… it's better for you to leave now anyway."
Nathan's brow furrowed.
"What do you mean, it's better if I leave now?"
Marv hesitated for half a second. "It's all over social media… Celine and Dean are back together. What irony, huh?"
Nathan's soul felt like it had just left his body.
"Nathan? You there?" Marv asked.
Nathan hung up.
He checked the time, grabbed his keys, and rushed out of the hotel.
He drove straight to HUB headquarters.
He knew the building.
Knew the floor.
Knew her office number like his own pulse.
Letty practically jumped out of her chair when she saw him approaching. He didn't give her a chance to speak. He knocked once, opened the door, stepped inside, then shut it behind him. He flicked the switch for the blinds, watching them slide down and close them off from the outside world.
Celine stood with her back to him, focused on a large board covered in initiatives and notes.
"Letty, I think we can move this here…" she was saying, completely absorbed.
Nathan watched her.
She was different.
Her posture was sharp, shoulders straight, presence commanding. The delicate softness she used to carry was gone—replaced with steel. Power. Control.
He wanted to cross the room, pull her into his arms, whisper that he finally understood. That he was sorry. That he loved her.
But he didn't move.
He wasn't sure he had the right.
The silence stretched. Celine sensed it and slowly turned around.
Her eyes met his. For a brief second, her knees threatened to give out. But she steeled herself, standing tall. No trace of the meek, hesitant girl remained.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here, Mr. Park?" she asked, her tone cold and professional.
"Nathan," he corrected softly. He drew a breath. "I dropped off some important documents for Carl… and I wanted to come by to apologize. For how we ended things. Before I leave."
He meant every word. His remorse hung heavy in the air.
"It's okay," Celine replied, her expression unreadable. "I understand. And your apology is accepted."
Her heart was screaming, breaking, bleeding—but she kept it all locked behind her eyes. The pain and heartbreak had pushed her past the edge. Now there was only numbness.
"Is there anything else?" she asked.
"None," he said quietly. "It was nice to see you."
He offered a sad smile, then turned and walked out.
As soon as the door closed, Celine's eyes filled with tears. One slipped, then another. She wiped them away quickly, stared at the wetness on her fingertips for a second… and then turned back to her board.
There was work to do.
There was always work to do.
Nathan walked away from her office feeling like his chest had been carved open. But beneath the pain… was a strange, steady calm.
She was finally the woman he'd always known she could be—
strong, independent, priceless.
He had faith in her.
Faith that she would come back to him.
Faith that she would figure out what she truly wants.
He was willing to take that gamble.
He was willing to leave in peace.