Maxen
"Maxen, how are you?"
My mom greeted me the moment I walked into the café. She pulled me into a warm hug, then turned and embraced Adrian as well.
"Adrian, dear, how are you?" she asked gently. "Thank you for being with Xen."
"Lena, it's a pleasure," he replied, smiling softly. "Besides, he's my boyfriend. We carry everything together."
What he said made both me and Mom tear up. We didn't say anything—just exchanged a quiet look of understanding.
Adrian gave me a tight hug and whispered, "I love you," before heading off to work. He'd wanted to stay with me today so we could visit Ryan together, but I couldn't let him push aside his responsibilities for my sake. I promised to text him every three hours to ease his worry. He made me promise twice.
Mom hugged me again, her arms firm around me, then gently led me into the office.
"I'm really surprised the media isn't snooping around," I said, sinking into the couch.
Mom sat beside me and replied, "Maybe they've found juicier gossip elsewhere."
"This is Elio Adrian Veymar gossip," I said, raising a brow. "What story could possibly be more interesting than the richest bachelor in the entertainment industry being taken—by a man, no less?"
I glanced at her. Her expression shifted just slightly—too neutral. She was hiding something.
Before I could press, a knock came at the door.
Lena, the café's chief waitress, walked in with a cup of coffee.
"He's basically every girl's dream husband," she said playfully, setting the cup down on the table.
"Lena," I said sternly, narrowing my eyes, "eavesdropping on your boss is illegal."
"Well, not when it's about the gossip of the moment," she shot back with a grin.
"You may share the same name as my mother and be one of my best staff members, but you can't talk about my man like that. He's already taken."
She smirked. "Relax, Mr. Kuston. My crush is Roderick, not Adrian. Besides, I'm just quoting the media."
With that, she turned and walked out, her ponytail swaying like punctuation to her exit.
Mom chuckled beside me.
"You shouldn't be laughing at such a crucial moment," I said. "I feel like I have a million rivals out there."
"Well, you are dating their dream man," she replied, sipping the rest of her coffee as she stood. Then she paused.
"I'm glad you have him," she said softly—and left.
By noon, I had managed to respond to a few emails and review the design proposal for the café renovation. I wanted to add a flower ward in the back, with a bookshelf where book lovers could read while enjoying their coffee in a serene, floral setting.
It was time to visit Ryan. I had contacted Dr. Sean in the morning, and he'd suggested I come in the afternoon instead.
My phone rang. It was Adrian.
"Hey," he said, "are you getting ready to go? Should I come pick you up?"
"Hey. No, don't worry—I can go on my own. How's work at the company?"
"All good. We'll talk about it in the evening," he replied.
"Okay. Then I'll get going. See you at home. Love you."
"Love you too. Let me know when you get to the hospital."
"Okay. Bye."
"Bye."
I got to the hospital in exactly thirty minutes.
Opening the passenger seat, I picked up the lunch and fruit Mom had packed for Ryan. The basket was warm with care, wrapped in one of her patterned napkins—the way she used to pack lunch for me and Dad when I was a kid.
As I stood in front of Ryan's room door, Mom's words echoed in my mind:
"You're stronger than you think, Maxen. And remember, Ryan will come back with you. It won't be like your father. Don't always think your dad didn't fight to be with us—but sometimes, the universe is just more stubborn and strong-willed than we are."
She told me that just before I left. And I know she's right. But my inner child didn't believe it.
In Dad's ward, some patients recovered. Some got to go home. Some got to continue life. But not my father. As a child, I thought it meant he didn't want us enough. That he didn't fight hard enough to stay.
His last words to me were:
"Some things are beyond us, son. But one thing I was able to give, without limit, was my love for you both."
I cried so much that day—with Mom beside me. But even in our shared tears, I think we cried for different reasons. I cried because I felt abandoned. She cried because she understood.
I sighed.
Then I knocked gently on the door and stepped inside.
A nurse was just coming out. I greeted her softly, and she gave a polite nod before slipping past me. She closed the door behind her as she left.
The room was quiet. Dim natural light filtered in through the half-drawn blinds. Ryan sat upright in bed, a blanket tucked over his legs. His eyes were closed at first, but they fluttered open when he heard me approach.
"Max…" he said, his voice softer than I remembered. "You came."
"Of course I did," I said. A tight smile touched my lips as I moved closer. "I brought lunch. And fruits. From Mom."
Ryan looked at the basket, then back at me. His expression was unreadable, but I saw something flicker—gratefulness, maybe. Or guilt.
"Your mom still remembers me," he murmured.
"She does. She asked me to make sure you eat, or she'll come and feed you herself," I teased lightly, setting the food down on the side table.
That drew the ghost of a smile from him. But it didn't last.
"I thought maybe you'd… hate me," he said, voice raw.
I sat down beside him, resting my elbows on my knees before turning to face him.
"I think I tried to hate you," I admitted. "But there's too much history. Too much… everything."
He swallowed hard. "Max, I didn't come back to ruin anything."
"I know," I said. "But it still stirred things. In me. In Adrian. In everything I've been trying to rebuild."
Silence settled between us, thick and full of all the words we hadn't said over the years.
Then he looked at me, and his voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Max. For everything."
I reached out and placed a hand on his.
"I don't need you to apologize. I need you to fight. This time, come back."
His eyes shimmered with tears, but he nodded slowly.
"I will," he whispered.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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