The Years Between Us

8. Ezra

My relationship with my father had never truly felt like one between a son and his father.

Growing up, I often felt more like an obligation that happened to exist inside that house rather than someone genuinely wanted there. My father was always present. Sitting at the same dining table. Living beneath the same roof. Coming home to the same house every night. Yet somehow, he still felt like a stranger.

He never asked about my day at school. Never came to my important events. Never taught me the little things fathers usually teach their sons. There were no hugs. No praise. No warmth. And the older I got, the more convinced I became that there was simply something wrong with me. Maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I wasn’t worthy enough to be acknowledged as his son.

So I started trying harder. Studying harder. Becoming better. Trying to turn myself into someone who, someday, might finally make him look at me with pride. But no matter what achievements I placed in front of him, his reaction never changed. Cold. He would only give a brief nod, like someone listening to a weather report.

My mother always tried to defend him.

“Your father just has difficulty expressing his feelings.”

She repeated that sentence throughout my entire life. But sometimes I wondered—if someone truly loved you... shouldn’t you be able to feel it? Or maybe I was simply too stupid to recognize my father’s version of love.

Time passed. And the little boy who once secretly wished to be hugged by his father slowly grew into someone deeply accustomed to feeling unwanted. That was why I spent most of my time outside the house. The Hale residence had never truly felt like home to me.

When I finally entered university, I decided to move out and live alone in a small flat near campus. My mother begged me to stay since the distance was close enough, but I left anyway.

Partly because of pride. I didn’t want to keep living off my father’s money. But more than that... I simply wanted to breathe somewhere that didn’t make me feel like my existence itself was a mistake.

During freshman orientation, I met Meara.

It didn’t take long for us to grow close, and after that, we were nearly inseparable. We never officially announced that we were together, but I think everyone around us could see it. And for the first time in my life, I experienced a love that wasn’t my mother’s.

For the first time, someone truly saw me for who I was. Not as the son of the Hale family. Not as my father’s child. And ironically, not as someone who constantly felt unseen by his own father.

Meara wasn’t someone who talked much. She showed things instead. There were never many words between us, but understanding always filled the silence we shared.

Meara was an orphan. She lived with distant relatives, though I knew she never truly felt comfortable there—just like I never felt comfortable in my own home. After entering university, she chose to stay in the dormitory and worked various part-time jobs to support herself. Meara was incredibly intelligent. She had earned a full scholarship.

One time, during a freshman retreat, both Meara and I were part of the organizing committee. The retreat took place at a campsite on a hillside outside the city, about an hour away from Windele.

The evening activities had already ended. Around midnight, Meara and I wandered together beneath the pale silver moonlight, enjoying the cold air. We sat on a gentle hill not far from the rows of tents that had gradually fallen quiet.

There was no drinking party that night because someone had forgotten to bring the alcohol everyone had prepared. Many people complained at first, but eventually they just talked, played guitar, and went to sleep earlier than usual. Only a few committee members were still awake.

“Do you know what day it is?” I asked Meara.

She immediately nodded with a bright smile.

I pulled a small box from my pocket. Her eyes widened slightly when I opened it in front of her. A pair of rings. Identical except for the size.

I laughed softly at her expression. “Relax. I’m not proposing to you,” I teased.

Meara laughed too, covering her face in embarrassment. Gently, I took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger.

“Happy first anniversary,” I said quietly.

“Happy first anniversary,” she replied with a small smile.

Then she picked up the other ring and carefully slid it onto my finger. “Thank you, Ezra.”

Meara smiled again, but this time I noticed something different in her expression. Something heavy.

“I have something for you too,” she said softly.

But she didn’t look excited. Her gaze was filled with hesitation, as if she was carrying a burden too large to share with me. Then slowly, she reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled something out.

At first, it looked like a thermometer. For a second, I wondered why Meara was carrying one around. But then I noticed the small window in the middle of the white plastic.

Two red lines. Clear as day.

My heart immediately started pounding the moment I fully understood what I was looking at. And suddenly, all of Meara’s strange silence throughout the day finally made sense.

I gently took the pregnancy test from her trembling hand. Meara lowered her head. Guilt filled her face so completely that my chest tightened just looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

At that moment, I pulled her into my arms. “Don’t apologize,” I murmured softly against her hair. “We’ll face this together.”

We stayed like that for a long time beneath the freezing night air before eventually returning to our separate tents.

I kept the pregnancy test inside my pocket the entire way home. But after the retreat, I didn’t return to my flat. For some reason, I went back to my parents’ house instead.

I think I wanted to see my mother. Even though I knew I still didn’t have the courage to tell her the truth. I knew she would comfort me in her own gentle way—with her soft voice and thoughtful advice. But I wasn’t ready to disappoint her.

That night, I stayed at my parents’ house. And for the first time since Meara and I became a couple, I didn’t call her before going to sleep.

I simply lay there staring silently at that small white plastic stick. Thinking about what we were supposed to do next. Thinking about how our lives were about to change. At some point, exhaustion pulled me under before I even realized it.

The next morning, the test was still in my hand when I woke up. I slipped it back into my pocket and promised myself that today, I would go see Meara so we could start planning our future together.

But one week after that night... Meara disappeared without a trace.