HIS HIDDEN SON

Chapter 14 - what if it's worth it

The morning came with a heaviness that clung to Amara’s chest like damp air refusing to leave a room. She stirred awake in the small apartment, sunlight pushing gently past the curtains, brushing over Liam’s sleeping face beside her. For a moment, she watched him, her heart tightening at the sight of his little chest rising and falling. His innocence was her anchor, her reason for enduring—but it was also the very reason her world had become so complicated again.

Because Liam didn’t just need her. He needed him.

Amara rose quietly, careful not to wake him, and padded to the kitchen. The kettle hissed as she filled it, but her mind wasn’t on breakfast. It was back at the bookstore yesterday, where Ethan had shown up, where his quiet persistence had almost broken down the walls she’d been trying so hard to hold together. She still felt the echo of his gaze, that desperate mixture of tenderness and frustration, lingering in her mind like a ghost she couldn’t shake.

She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the steam curling from the kettle. Why can’t I just shut him out? she thought. Why can’t I let myself breathe without him in every thought?

By the time Liam was awake, chattering sleepily as he rubbed his eyes and dragged his small blanket across the floor, Amara had forced a smile onto her face. They shared toast and tea, his laughter filling the space, easing her heart for short bursts of time. She clung to those moments, knowing they were pure. But every time Liam asked something—“When will Daddy come again?” or “Do you think Daddy likes the books I read?”—her chest would knot. She couldn’t answer without her voice trembling.

It was Nina who noticed, of course.

Nina had been Amara’s friend long before life twisted into this maze of responsibilities and emotions. They’d met years ago at university, and though paths had diverged, Nina had remained steady, a tether to normalcy. When she messaged Amara that morning asking to meet for coffee, Amara almost declined. She didn’t feel like talking. But something inside her—some desperate need to not drown alone—made her agree.

She left Liam with a neighbor for a few hours and walked to the café near the bookstore. The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, the warm smell of roasted beans and sugar wrapping around her. Nina was already there, tucked into a corner seat, her auburn hair catching the light, her smile easy and unforced as always.

“Amara,” she said, standing to hug her tightly. “You look exhausted.”

Amara gave a weak laugh. “Thanks, that’s what every woman wants to hear.”

Nina squeezed her shoulders before they sat. “You know I don’t mean it like that. You’ve just… got that stormy look in your eyes. What’s going on?”

For a moment, Amara toyed with the spoon in her cup, stirring without tasting. The words were trapped, caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. But when she looked up and saw Nina’s steady, patient gaze, something broke loose.

“It’s Ethan,” she said softly.

Nina’s brow lifted. “Ethan. The Ethan.”

Amara gave a small nod, eyes falling to her lap. “He found me. He found us. And now everything’s—” she exhaled shakily—“everything’s complicated.”

Nina leaned back, arms crossed, studying her with a seriousness that made Amara both grateful and uneasy. “Tell me.”

So Amara did. The café faded around them as her voice wove the story—the chance reunion, the awkward first conversations, the way Ethan had slipped so easily into Liam’s affections. She spoke of Clara’s sudden appearance, the scene at the school, the way Ethan had looked at her in the bookstore just yesterday. Each word seemed to peel back a layer she’d been holding in too long, until her hands trembled slightly around her cup.

When she finished, silence settled between them. Nina tapped her nails lightly against the table, considering.

“You still love him,” she said finally. It wasn’t a question.

Amara’s throat tightened. She wanted to deny it, to laugh and say Nina was wrong. But her silence gave her away.

Nina leaned forward, her voice gentler now. “So what’s the real problem? Is it Clara?”

Amara swallowed hard. “It’s not just her. It’s… everything. The years apart. The things unsaid. My father. The fact that Ethan comes from a world I can’t seem to belong to. And Liam—God, Nina, Liam adores him already. What if I let Ethan in, and then it all falls apart again? What if Liam gets hurt?”

Her friend’s gaze softened. “What if he doesn’t?”

Amara looked up sharply, blinking against the sting in her eyes.

“Listen,” Nina said, her tone steady, “you’ve carried this on your own for so long. You’ve built this life with Liam, and you’ve done it beautifully. But that boy deserves every bit of love he can get. And you—” she reached across the table, squeezing Amara’s hand—“you deserve happiness too. Not just survival. Happiness.”

Tears prickled at the corners of Amara’s eyes. “But what if I can’t trust him?”

“Then don’t trust him blindly. Make him earn it. But don’t push him away just because you’re scared.” Nina smiled faintly. “You’re stronger than your fear, Amara. I know you are.”

The words sat heavy in Amara’s chest as if they were seeds trying to take root. She wanted to believe them, wanted to believe she could be strong enough to risk her heart again. But the image of Clara’s knowing smile, of Ethan’s conflicted expression, burned too sharply in her memory.

She pulled her hand back gently, wrapping it around her coffee cup as if it could steady her. “It’s not that easy.”

“It never is,” Nina agreed. “But maybe it’s worth it.”

The rest of their conversation drifted to safer topics—work, old memories, small jokes that drew faint smiles from Amara. But the undercurrent of what had been said lingered, a pulse beneath every word.

Later, as Amara walked home beneath the pale afternoon sky, her thoughts tangled. Nina was right—she couldn’t keep making choices out of fear. Yet fear was all she had to protect herself. She had given Ethan her heart once, and the cracks from that loss still ran deep. Could she really risk it again, knowing Liam’s heart was now on the line too?

Back home, Liam greeted her with boundless energy, showing her the picture he’d drawn: stick figures holding hands, a child between them. Her throat constricted at the sight. Even in crayon, it was clear—Liam saw himself, her, and Ethan. A family.

She tucked him into bed that night, kissed his forehead, and lingered by his side longer than usual. His small hand clutched hers, trusting, unaware of the storm in her chest.

When she finally slipped away to her own room, Amara sat in the dim light, staring at the ceiling. Nina’s words replayed in her mind, intertwining with Ethan’s face, Liam’s laughter, Clara’s sharp intrusion.

What if it’s worth it?

Her heart wanted to believe. But for now, all she could do was whisper into the silence, “I don’t know.”

And hope that one day soon, she would.