Ariana spent the entire morning in bed, her body and soul weighed down by a profound exhaustion. The world outside her dorm room felt distant, and for once, she was grateful for the empty schedule that allowed her to simply exist, to grieve.
Kian, meanwhile, had forced himself through his morning lectures, the concepts failing to penetrate the haze of his worry for Ariana and the lingering unease from Arif's warning. On his way back, hunger finally pierced his numbness, leading him to the cafeteria for a sandwich. The clock read 11:30 a.m. 🕦
It was on the path to his dormitory, near the pond, that his world tilted on its axis. He stopped dead, his breath catching in his throat. The figure on the bench was a ghost, a specter from his most painful memories.
"Dad?" The word was a disbelieving whisper, torn from him against his will.
It was him. Fourteen years had carved their passage deeply;his hair was shock-white, his frame gaunt;but the man's essence was unmistakable. This was the hidden guest, the source of the mystery. đźŽ
Kian approached slowly, each step heavy with a lifetime of anger and confusion. "So it was you," Kian stated, his voice cold and flat. "Why have you been following me?"
"Son!" The man sprang to his feet, his movements jerky with emotion, and moved to embrace him.
Kian took a sharp step back, holding up a hand to create a barrier. "Don't."
The man's arms fell to his sides, the hope in his eyes dimming. "I've been waiting for this day," he murmured.
"Is your prison sentence over?" Kian asked, his tone deliberately clinical.
"Yes. I am free."
"Then why are you here?" Kian's voice began to rise, the control starting to crack. "My mother made her mistakes, but I can never forget that you are her killer."
The words landed like a physical blow. His father's composure shattered. He dropped to his knees on the gravel path, his hands clutching at Kian's legs. "I'm sorry, son! I'm so sorry! I just… I couldn't bear to see her with him… with Cherise, my best friend…"
The raw display of desperation was unsettling. "Get up," Kian commanded, his own heart a conflicted drum in his chest. "Tell me why you came and then leave."
Struggling to his feet, the man began his story, the words tumbling out in a rushed, desperate confession. "I was released last April. Ten months ago. I didn't come to you then because I knew you were building a good life here. I didn't want to be a shadow over it." He took a shaky breath. "In May, I married a woman named Jessica. She's thirty-five. Eleven years younger. I fell for her the moment I saw her, and she… she saw something in me, too. She got pregnant in July. The baby is due in early April." 🤰
He paused, and a profound sorrow filled his eyes. "But last month, in December, I found out… I have lung cancer, Kian. The doctors… they say my time is uncertain."
The news struck Kian with a physical jolt, a confusing mix of pity and rage. He steeled himself, building the walls around his heart higher. "What," he repeated, his voice like ice, "do you want from me?"
His father looked at him, his eyes pleading, stripped of all pride. "I need a great help from you." 🙇