Reminder:
In Chapter 9, Anaya finally returned after a week of silence. She revealed that the reason she disappeared was because someone from her past had come back — the one person who shaped her deepest fears. Her father, the man who left without a word nearly ten years ago, had suddenly returned. And now, after everything, he wanted to meet me.
---
I didn't sleep much that night.
Not because I was angry.
Not even because I was confused.
But because something about the situation felt strangely fragile — like we had just stepped into a part of the story where one wrong move could break something important.
Meeting Anaya's father wasn't something I had ever imagined.
Until a week ago, he had only existed in stories.
A shadow from the past.
A man who packed a suitcase one day and never came back.
Now he was suddenly real.
And he wanted to meet me.
---
The next evening, Anaya texted me earlier than usual.
"Can we meet before the bus stop today?"
I stared at the message for a moment before replying.
"Of course."
She sent an address.
A small park about ten minutes away from the usual street where we met.
When I arrived, the sky was still bright, the sun slowly sliding behind the buildings. The park was quiet, with only a few people sitting on the benches and a couple of children playing near the fountain.
Anaya was standing near a tree when I saw her.
She looked calm.
But I knew her well enough now to notice the small things.
The way her hands were folded tightly together.
The way she kept looking at the ground before glancing up.
"You came early," she said when I walked closer.
"You sounded like you needed me to."
She smiled faintly at that.
"I guess I did."
We sat down on a nearby bench.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The wind moved softly through the leaves above us.
Finally, she exhaled.
"He wants to meet tomorrow."
My chest tightened slightly.
"So soon?"
She nodded.
"He said there's a lot we need to talk about."
"And you agreed?"
Her answer came slowly.
"I'm not sure if I agreed… or if I just didn't stop it from happening."
That sounded like her.
Still trying to understand how she felt about everything.
"Are you okay with me being there?" I asked.
She looked at me immediately.
"Yes."
The answer came faster than I expected.
"I don't think I could do it alone."
Her honesty made something inside me soften.
"You won't have to."
She nodded slowly, as if she was trying to believe it herself.
Then she added quietly,
"You should know something first."
"What?"
She hesitated before speaking.
"My father… isn't a bad person."
The sentence surprised me.
"Then why did he leave?"
Her eyes dropped to the ground.
"That's the part he never explained."
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
"Do you think he's going to explain it now?" I asked gently.
"I don't know."
Her voice was almost a whisper.
"But I need to hear it."
I understood that.
Some questions don't disappear just because time passes.
---
The next day arrived faster than I expected.
Anaya texted me in the afternoon.
"6 PM. Small café near the old bridge."
When I reached the café, she was already outside waiting.
She looked nervous.
More nervous than I had ever seen her.
"You ready?" I asked softly.
"No," she said honestly.
"Me neither."
That made her laugh quietly.
"Good," she said. "At least we're both unprepared."
Together, we walked inside.
The café was small and dimly lit, with only a few tables near the windows. Soft music played in the background, barely noticeable.
And then I saw him.
He was sitting at the far table near the corner.
A man in his early fifties, wearing a simple dark jacket. His hair was slightly grey, and his posture carried a strange mixture of confidence and hesitation.
He looked up the moment we entered.
And for a second, I saw something flash across his face.
Relief.
"Anaya," he said quietly as we approached.
Her steps slowed slightly beside me.
"Hi," she replied.
The word sounded unfamiliar in her mouth.
Polite.
But distant.
His eyes shifted toward me.
"You must be the one she told me about."
I nodded once.
"I'm—"
"I know," he interrupted gently. "She mentioned you."
That surprised me.
Anaya noticed it too.
"You've been talking about me?" she asked.
Her father gave a small smile.
"I tried to learn what I could."
The three of us sat down at the table.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The air between them felt full of things that had never been said.
Finally, Anaya broke the silence.
"Why now?"
Her voice was calm.
But the question carried years of weight.
Her father sighed softly.
"I knew that would be the first thing you asked."
"Well?" she said.
He looked down at the table before answering.
"Because I finally understood what I destroyed when I left."
The words didn't soften her expression.
"You understood that ten years too late."
He nodded slowly.
"Yes."
There was no defense in his voice.
No excuses.
Just quiet acceptance.
"That doesn't fix anything," she added.
"I know."
Another silence settled over the table.
Then he said something none of us expected.
"I wasn't strong enough back then."
Anaya frowned slightly.
"What does that even mean?"
He looked at her carefully.
"It means I was scared."
The word hung strangely in the air.
"You were scared?" she repeated.
"Yes."
"Of what?"
His eyes softened in a way that reminded me strangely of Anaya.
"Of failing you."
She stared at him.
"That doesn't make sense."
He nodded again.
"It didn't make sense to me either back then."
Then he looked at both of us.
"But I'd like to explain."
Anaya leaned back slightly in her chair.
"Then start talking."
And just like that—
The story of the man who left was finally about to begin.
---
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The truth about Anaya's past has finally started to surface.
And some answers might change everything.
To be continued…