A Love Left Behind

Chapter 23 - Almost Eightee

By seventeen, I had become very good at waiting.

Waiting for messages.

Waiting for calls.

Waiting for school to end.

Waiting for university applications.

Waiting for Germany to wake up.

And mostly, waiting for Damian.

His next visit had been confirmed months ago.

Four weeks.

The Philippines.

Summer.

I had the dates saved on my phone even though I knew them by heart.

43 days.

I didn't tell Damian I was counting.

He knew anyway.

Damian: 43.

I stared at the message.

Me: What?

Damian: Don't pretend.

Me: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Damian: Liar.

I smiled.

Me: Maybe.

We had survived almost another year.

Not perfectly.

There had been arguments.

Real ones this time.

Not about Sophie or Miguel or who had forgotten to call.

Distance had become harder as our lives became bigger.

Damian had school, friends, Mum, Chloe, Dad and Rea.

I had my family, school and decisions about university that everyone suddenly expected me to make.

Sometimes one of us needed the other at exactly the wrong time.

Sometimes I woke up to a message he'd sent hours earlier.

Sometimes he waited for a call I couldn't make.

We fought.

Then we learned how to come back.

Maybe that was love.

Not never hurting each other.

Knowing where to return afterward.

I was almost eighteen when Damian called me one evening and didn't insult me within the first thirty seconds.

I knew immediately something was wrong.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't do that.”

“What?”

“The nothing thing.”

He looked tired.

Not physically tired.

Different.

“It's Mum.”

I sat up.

“Maxime?”

He nodded.

“What happened?”

“She had an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?”

“They found something.”

My stomach tightened.

“What?”

“On her skin.”

I waited.

Damian looked away from the camera.

“They removed it. They're testing it.”

“Testing for what?”

He didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is she scared?”

“She says no.”

“Which means yes.”

He smiled faintly.

“You've never even met her.”

“I know you.”

That silenced him.

For a moment, I wished I could reach through the screen.

“What does Chloe say?”

“She acts like everything is fine.”

“So she's terrified.”

“Probably.”

“And your dad?”

Damian hesitated.

That told me enough.

“He's worried.”

“And Rea?”

Another pause.

“She's trying to stay out of it.”

I knew enough about his family by then to understand what that meant.

There were moments when Rea could be part of Damian's life.

And moments when the old family closed around itself again.

This was one of them.

“Do you want to talk?”

“I am talking.”

“No. You're giving me information.”

He looked at me.

I waited.

Finally, he said, “I'm scared.”

That was Damian.

Three words.

No speech.

No drama.

Just the truth.

“I know.”

“What if—”

“Don't.”

He stopped.

“Not until you know.”

He nodded.

I stayed on the phone with him until he fell asleep.

Neither of us knew then that Maxime's illness would become another thread pulling his family back together.

And another knot between Damian and me.

On my side of the world, the Tans were changing too.

Victor had started talking about restructuring the company.

That was the word he used.

Restructuring.

Grandpa hated it.

“We make furniture,” he said during one family meeting. “Why does furniture need restructuring?”

Victor laughed.

“The company is bigger now, Dad.”

“So?”

“So we need clearer responsibilities.”

Mum sat across from him.

“What responsibilities aren't clear?”

Victor's smile faded slightly.

“That's exactly the problem.”

Vincent looked between them.

Ellie sat beside him.

Leyla sat beside Victor.

Quiet.

Always quiet when the important conversations started.

Victor continued.

“You control the finances.”

“I manage them.”

“Exactly.”

“Because Dad asked me to.”

Grandpa nodded.

“I did.”

Victor leaned back.

“I'm not accusing anyone.”

Nobody had said he was.

Mum's expression changed.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing today.”

There was that word.

Nothing.

I hated it now.

Grandma was watching Leyla.

Leyla smiled at her.

Grandma didn't smile back.

Afterward, I found Mum outside.

“You okay?”

“Of course.”

“You're doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The one where you say you're fine when you're angry.”

She looked at me.

“You spend too much time talking to Damian.”

“Probably.”

That made her smile.

Then it disappeared.

“Victor is under pressure.”

“From who?”

Mum looked toward the house.

I followed her eyes.

Leyla was standing beside him.

“Work,” Mum said.

I knew she didn't mean work.

“Why don't you say something?”

“Because he's my brother.”

“That doesn't answer the question.”

“Yes, it does.”

I thought about what Grandma had told me.

Family was supposed to be the safest place in the world.

Maybe that was why we were so bad at protecting ourselves from each other.

Three weeks later, Damian called again.

This time I knew before he spoke.

His face told me.

“It's cancer.”

Everything inside me went still.

“What did they say?”

“Melanoma.”

I knew the word.

I wished I didn't.

“They think they caught it early.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

But he didn't sound relieved.

“Damian.”

“I know. It's good.”

“What happens now?”

“More tests.”

“And the trip?”

The second the words left my mouth, I hated myself.

Damian didn't react.

“I don't know.”

“Forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Your mum is more important.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Rose.”

I looked away.

For almost a year, I'd been counting toward one thing.

Seeing him.

Touching him.

Having him here instead of inside my phone.

And suddenly I felt selfish for even wanting it.

“Hey,” Damian said.

I looked back.

“Don't do that.”

“What?”

“Feel guilty.”

“I don't.”

“You do.”

I smiled weakly.

“You know me too well.”

“Unfortunately.”

There he was.

My Damian.

“Whatever happens,” I said, “stay with her.”

He nodded.

“If you can't come, you can't come.”

“I want to.”

“I know.”

“We'll figure it out.”

I almost reminded him about stupid promises.

I didn't.

Because for the first time, I understood why people made them.

Sometimes you needed something to hold onto even when neither of you could control what happened next.

My eighteenth birthday came before we knew whether Damian would make the trip.

Grandma made too much food.

Grandpa gave me money even though Mum told him not to.

Vincent arrived with enough children to fill the house.

Ellie hugged me.

Victor gave me a beautiful necklace.

Leyla gave me an expensive bag I would never have bought for myself.

“You're a woman now,” she said.

Grandma heard her.

“She was a woman yesterday too.”

I laughed.

Leyla smiled.

But something about her eyes changed.

Only for a second.

That evening, after everyone had gone, I sat outside with Grandma.

“Eighteen,” she said.

“Terrifying.”

“You'll survive.”

“How do you know?”

“I did.”

I rested my head against her shoulder.

“What if I choose wrong?”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“Then you choose again.”

“What if I can't?”

Grandma looked at me.

“There is almost always another choice, Rose.”

Almost.

That word would stay with me.

My phone vibrated.

Damian.

I opened the message.

Damian: Happy birthday again.

Me: You already said that.

Damian: I know.

Then another message.

Damian: Mum's results are good.

I sat up.

Me: What does that mean?

Damian: They got it early. She needs follow-ups, but she's okay.

I closed my eyes.

Relief came so quickly it almost hurt.

Then another message appeared.

Damian: And Dad booked the flights.

I stopped breathing.

Me: What?

Damian: 24 days.

I stared at the screen.

Twenty-four days.

After almost a year of waiting.

After calls, arguments, apologies, missed birthdays because of time zones, jealousy, fear and thousands of messages.

Damian was coming back.

This time we weren't fifteen.

We weren't sixteen.

We weren't children pretending distance was the only thing that could hurt us.

I was eighteen.

And I thought that meant I was finally old enough to choose my own life.

I didn't know that very soon, everyone I loved would begin asking me to choose between them.