I toss and turn in bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, offering no comfort. The clock on the nightstand ticks away, each second amplifying the turmoil in my mind. I’m trying to shake the image of Iris’s face from my thoughts—the hurt in her eyes when I had tried to reach out, the way she had asked for space as if it were a lifeline. How did we get to this point? The fight erupted so suddenly, and now the silence stretches between us like an unbridgeable chasm. I miss her fiercely, a constant ache in my chest that no amount of distraction can alleviate. The success of the magazine feels hollow without sharing it with the one person who matters most to me.
I finally sit up, running a hand through my hair in frustration. I need to talk to someone, to find clarity in this storm of emotions. My father, Marcus, has always been a steady presence in my life, a voice of reason when I need it most. Perhaps he can offer some insight. I slip out of bed, pull on a pair of jeans, and make my way to the living room. The apartment feels empty, the silence only amplifying the chaos in my head.
I grab my phone and text my dad, asking if he’s free to meet. Within minutes, he replies: "Always available for my son. Coffee shop?" I feel a flicker of hope at his quick response. I head out, the cool night air hitting my face as I make my way to the café. The streets are quiet, the city lights casting a soft glow against the darkness. I need this conversation; I need to hear my father’s perspective.
When I arrive at the café, I spot my dad at a corner table, his usual cup of black coffee in front of him. He looks up as I approach, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Lucas! It’s good to see you, son." I settle into the chair opposite him, grateful for the familiarity of our routine.
"Hey, Dad," I say, trying to sound calm. He studies me for a moment, his expression shifting to one of concern. "You look like you haven’t slept in days. What’s going on?" I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "It’s Iris. We fought, and now she wants space. I don’t know what to do."
"Ah," he says, his brow furrowing. "Relationships can be tricky. What was the fight about?" I explain the situation, recounting the argument and the hurt feelings that followed. As I speak, I feel a weight lifting off my shoulders, but the lingering uncertainty remains.
"Lucas," my dad begins, leaning forward. "You need to fight for her. Don’t let pride or fear keep you apart. If you love her, show her." "But what if I push her away even more?" I counter, frustration creeping into my voice. "She needs time."
"Yes, she may need time, but that doesn’t mean you should disappear," he replies, his tone firm yet encouraging. "You need to be there for her, to let her know you’re willing to work through this together." I nod slowly, absorbing his words.
"So, you think I should go to her?" I ask, seeking reassurance. "Yes! But do it thoughtfully. Don’t barge in unannounced. Give her space, but also let her know you’re there, ready to talk when she is," he says, his eyes locked on mine.
Feeling invigorated by his advice, I finish my coffee and thank my dad for his insight. "I’ll do it. I’ll go see her," I say, determination rising within me. "Good. Just remember, communication is key," he says with a reassuring smile. "And don’t forget to listen."
With renewed determination, I stand up, ready to face whatever lies ahead. I hug my dad, thanking him again for his guidance. "I’ll keep that in mind, Dad. Thanks for always being there for me."
"Anytime, son," he replies, his voice filled with warmth. "I’ll be here, cheering you on."
I leave the café, feeling a sense of purpose. I’m going to see Iris, and I’m going to fight for us. The city lights seem brighter now, filled with possibility. I quicken my car’s speed, my heart pounding with hope. It’s time to take the next step, to show Iris how much she means to me.
I drove down the familiar street, my heart racing with anticipation and anxiety. I had been thinking about Iris nonstop since our fight, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to see her, to talk to her, to make things right. As I turned onto her street, I noticed a strange couple standing outside her gate. They were dressed in casual but neat clothing, and they seemed to be discussing something with an air of familiarity.
My instincts kicked in, and I felt a surge of unease. Who were these people, and what were they doing at Iris’s house? I slowed down, observing from a distance as they gestured and talked. The woman had long, braided hair and walked as though she was being restrained by something, as though she was afraid of doing whatever they came here to do, while the man was tall and lean, with a sharp jawline.
I’ve never seen anyone with a posture like his lingering around here before. He was walking behind the woman, seemingly the stranger of this place even more so than the woman. They looked...off. Not necessarily menacing, but certainly out of place. As though they were about to face someone fearsome and more dangerous than they looked.
Without thinking, I pulled over and parked my car a little way down the street. I couldn’t just drive away without knowing what was going on. What the fuck would I drive away?
I watched as the couple continued to talk, their voices muffled by the distance. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mind was racing with worst-case scenarios. What if they were trying to hurt Iris? What if she was in danger? Why were they here? And why did they seem like they were the victims instead?
I felt a rush of adrenaline as I considered getting out of the car and confronting them. But something held me back. Maybe it was the uncertainty in their voices or the way they seemed to be waiting for something. Whatever it was, I decided to wait and observe, my eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before me.
As I waited, my anxiety grew. My palms were sweating, and my heart was racing. I kept drumming my fingers on the car wheel, humming to keep myself from going insane with thoughts. I felt like I was in a movie, watching a scene play out that I couldn’t control. I could only watch and wait for the moment when I would be needed, the call to action that I’d use to save Iris.
The couple stood in front of the door for minutes, clearly battling with each other on whether to knock on the door or not. Suddenly, the front door opened, and Iris stood there, a look of surprise on her face.
"Mom?" she said, her voice carrying across the distance.
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Mom? This wasn’t some sinister plot; it was just Iris’s family visiting. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, feeling a mix of emotions: relief, embarrassment, and a dash of curiosity.
Why was her mom here? From what I remember, she’s partly the reason Iris has trouble with trusting people. She and her then husband who gave Iris nyctophobia from the fucking traumatic nights he haunted her that she can’t seem to get out of her head.
Why is she here at night, and with a strange man at that?
As Iris opened the door, her mom’s expression changed to one of concern, but it seemed more like concern for herself rather than her daughter. The man stood beside her, his eyes fixed on Iris with a mixture of curiosity and...fear. I couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between him and Iris – the same eyes, the same nose.
I stood frozen, watching as Iris’s mom and the man stood at her doorstep, their faces filled with expectation. I knew Iris had a strained relationship with her mom, and I couldn’t understand why she’d show up unannounced like this. The tension between them was palpable, and I could sense the weight of unresolved issues.
My mind flashed back to the times Iris had confided in me about her past, about the trauma she’d endured, and how it had left her with nyctophobia – a fear of the dark. And now, here was her mother and a man who strangely resembles her, standing in front of her like he was some kind of concerned parent. It made my blood boil.
Iris’s voice was laced with hesitation as she spoke to her mom, and I could sense the unease between them. "What are you doing here?" she said aloud, her tone questioning.
I couldn’t hear what they said next except for her making them enter the house and closing the door behind them. Now I couldn’t just leave them be. I had to wait until Iris came out of the house again to see if she was okay.