Scars of Us

San Myshuno – The Cornerstone Café

The city buzzed around them—horns blaring, hurried footsteps slapping against pavement, the low hum of voices threading through the afternoon air. The scent of brewed coffee and fresh pastries curled from open café doors, swallowed by the sharp sting of exhaust fumes and the ever-present press of bodies moving through the crowded streets.

San Myshuno was a living, breathing force, a metropolis that never slept, always pulsing with energy.

Seventeen-year-old Chris hated it.

Not because it wasn’t impressive—it was. Skyscrapers sliced through the sky, billboards flashed ads for exclusive rooftop bars, and storefronts gleamed beneath their polished facades.

But Chris wasn’t here for any of that.

He was here for one reason only—tattoo removal.

Connor, his dad, was gonna be stuck in a two-week medical conference, rubbing elbows with hospital executives and research specialists, while Chris would spend his days getting lasers burned into his stomach, erasing a mistake he’d made for a girl who wasn’t even his anymore.

Keira, his mom, had stayed behind in San Sequoia for work—too many commissions, gallery events, and clients to leave behind. She had made him promise to call after his first session and tell her how bad it hurt.

Like she didn’t already know it was going to be hell.

Chris sat tucked in a corner booth at a quiet café wedged between luxury storefronts, his fingers brushing absently over his hoodie, feeling the fabric shift against the name, the heart, the rose still branded on his skin beneath.

Connor stood beside the table, scrolling through his phone with a sigh.

“Work,” he muttered. “Because that hospital would literally collapse without me. I sure as fuck hope your uncle-in-law Bradford knows what all I do to keep his San Sequoia shed running so smoothly.”

Chris barely acknowledged him.

Connor tapped the edge of the booth—a small motion to get his attention—as he waved his ringing phone.

“Stay put—I gotta take this. Order something non-disgusting for me. Nothing with syrups and crap, please. But I need milk in my coffee, and you do too—better for the stomach.”

Then he stepped away, weaving toward the café’s entrance, leaving Chris alone.

Fine. Good.

He could sit here, drink some overpriced coffee, and pretend none of this mattered.

Except life wasn’t that easy.

A shadow fell over the table.

“I’ll be right with you,” came the distracted voice of a waitress.

Chris barely glanced up—until the voice hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

His fingers froze against his sleeve.

No.

No way.

His heartbeat slammed inside his chest as he lifted his gaze— And time stopped.

Indie.

Standing there, gripping a notepad so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be anywhere but here.

She lived in Newcrest! Which was… a suburb of San Myshuno. UGH.

“Chris,” she whispered, voice cracking.

Something inside him splintered.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay cold. Stay detached.

“Didn’t know you were a waitress,” he said flatly.

Indie flinched. “It’s—it’s just part-time. To pay for college. Community college. For now.”

He nodded once—like he was ordering food, not standing face-to-face with the girl who shattered him.

“Cappuccino. Two.”

Indie hesitated. “I’ll—yeah. I’ll get that right away.”

She turned to leave. But she didn’t go far.

A second later, she slid into Connor’s empty seat, pressing her lips together.

Chris immediately tensed.

“You need to sit down to take an order?” he muttered.

She swallowed hard. “I need to talk to you.”

His jaw locked. “Yeah, but I don’t need or want to talk to you.”

Her fingers curled together. She looked small.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Chris let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Right. Yeah. Now everything is much better, thanks.”

“I never wanted us to end like we did,” she said thickly. “I was—” She hesitated, eyes shining. “I was lost.”

Chris scoffed. “Were you lost when you dumped me over the phone? Told me you met someone else like it was nothing? Like I was nothing? Cool story, dude.”

Indie flinched. “It wasn’t nothing. You were everything to me.”

Chris clenched his jaw. “Yup. Sure felt like it when I got that call.”

She opened her mouth—like she wanted to say something important, something bigger than an apology— But her gaze flickered behind him, toward the front of the café.

Chris turned slightly—just in time to see Connor stepping back inside.

Indie immediately stood.

“I—I have to get back to work. I’ll bring your two cappus in just a sec.”

Chris stared at the table, heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

She turned quickly, moving toward the counter— Just as Connor passed her in the aisle.

Chris caught the shift in her posture—the way she stiffened, barely breathing, like she hoped if she moved fast enough, she could avoid being noticed. Connor, distracted, barely registered her beyond a passing glance before continuing toward the table.

Connor slid back into the booth, exhaling as he glanced toward the café counter—his brows pulling together, like something about the atmosphere felt off but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Seconds stretched.

Then—Indie returned, setting the cappuccinos down with cool precision, avoiding eye contact.

No hesitation.

Just a clipped, well-rehearsed—“Enjoy.”

She was gone before either of them could respond.

Chris sat rigid, fingers curled into his sleeves, jaw tight. His heartbeat was still hammering in his ears.

Connor frowned, peeking toward the counter, then at his son, studying him carefully.

“Was that Indigo Blu just now or am I hallucinating?”

Chris inhaled sharply, trying not to let it show, but the breath wasn’t steady.

Chris exhaled through his nose. “If you are then I am too. That was her, alright. Just my luck—you picked a café where she waitresses.”

Connor scoffed, shaking his head. “I didn’t pick a café where she waitresses. I picked the closest one to the tattoo removal place—which, by the way, we only need because of your brilliance.”

Chris clenched his jaw. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder.” He focused on his cappuccino, fingers tightening around the cup.

Connor’s fingers tapped briefly against the tabletop before picking up his cappuccino. He took a slow inhale, then a sip, nodding in approval.

“At least the coffee’s pretty good here. I needed that. Whole day of endless banter at the conference, some of it my own, and now taking my almost-adult-aged toddler to remove the awful doodles from his tummy.”

Chris snorted, rolling his eyes. “Wow, thanks, Dad. Love the respect.”

Connor smirked, lifting his cup again. “Drink your coffee, kid. You’ll need your spirits up for what’s next.”

Chris gave his cappuccino a dubious glance before lifting it to his lips. “Ha, knowing my luck, she poisoned it. Here’s to hoping…”

He took a sip just as Connor leaned back with a knowing chuckle.

“Rufied is more like it—the way she keeps covertly staring at you with that dreamy longing gaze.”

Chris sputtered mid-sip, nearly choking, hastily grabbing a paper napkin to wipe his mouth as Connor laughed.

“Oh, shut up, Dad,” Chris muttered, dabbing his face. Then, a mischievous glint. “You mean like your female staff and patients always look at you, Dr. McDreamy?”

Connor raised an eyebrow, then casually balled up his napkin and fired it at Chris.

Chris dodged—barely.

“I am not engaging with that,” Connor said dryly, taking another sip of his coffee.

Chris huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

But underneath it all—the humor, the banter—his pulse was still uneven, and his stomach was still twisted in knots.

Connor must have sensed it because, after a beat, his fingers drummed lightly against the tabletop—a silent, unspoken reminder that this conversation wasn’t over.

Not yet.

But for now, he let it go.

The Tattoo Removal

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and faintly burnt skin—a sharp, sterile scent that clung to the air. The quiet hum of machines filled the space, interrupted only by the faint murmur of conversation between technicians and patients.

Chris lay rigid on the padded chair, hoodie yanked up, stomach fully exposed under the glare of fluorescent lights.

The tattoo was still there—blue, black, red ink, her name, an indigo heart.

And now, he was about to erase it.

A technician adjusted the machine, the soft click of buttons echoing in the small room. Connor leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with mild amusement.

“This is gonna sting,” the technician warned.

Chris barely had time to process the words before the first laser pulse hit.

And holy hell—

He jerked, muscles clenching involuntarily against the fiery sting.

Pain exploded—hot, sharp, deep, burning through his skin like a blade dragging across raw flesh.

His fists clenched.

Connor whistled low, shaking his head. “That looks unpleasant.”

Chris let out a strangled sound that wasn’t quite a word, wasn’t quite a groan, but definitely communicated violence.

“You could at least pretend to be supportive,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Connor shrugged. “I could. But then I wouldn’t get to say ‘I told you so.’”

Chris muttered something deeply unholy under his breath.

By the time the session was over, his stomach felt raw, like it had been dragged across pavement—skin throbbing, nerves screaming.

Chris moved slowly, each step sending a fresh pulse of pain through his ribs. The tattoo shop door swung shut behind them, the cool evening air brushing his skin—he should have welcomed it. But all it did was sharpen the ache.

Connor draped an arm over his shoulders, steady but brief, like he knew Chris wouldn’t want too much fuss.

“Next time, be sure about it.”

Chris let out a breath, grimacing as the throbbing dug deeper.

“I’ll be sure about a lot of things.”

Nine more sessions.

All within two weeks.

Chris barely glanced at the rental car, parked along the curb, before exhaling sharply.

The ache in his stomach wasn’t just physical.

It was her name, still inked. Still there, despite the first attempt to erase it.

Connor had already slid into the driver’s seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, eyes flicking toward the dense flow of San Myshuno traffic as if planning their escape.

Chris opened the passenger side door but stalled.

Just for a second.

Then—“Dad, I gotta do something real quick. Can you give me a sec?”

Connor narrowed his eyes, grip tightening slightly on the wheel.

“Chris…”

Chris shook his head. “I am not gonna get another tat if that’s what you’re worried about. I just need to… say something to someone.”

Connor raised a brow.

Chris exhaled sharply. “This shit hurts like hell. It feels like they took the goddamn skin off my belly, and I still have nine more sessions ahead. I get it, Dad. Not out to get myself into any more trouble.”

Connor sighed, drumming his fingers once against the wheel, then nodded.

“Fine. I’ll call your mother and we’ll have a good gleeful laugh at your expense. Be quick.”

Chris barely waited for his approval before stepping back onto the sidewalk, slamming the passenger side door shut, eyes scanning the café window until he spotted her.

Cornerstone Café, The Second

Indie.

Near the counter, wiping down trays—methodical, distracted. Like she was trying not to think too hard.

Chris pushed through the door without thinking.

Her breath hitched when she saw him.

“Can we talk?”

She blinked fast. “I—yeah. Hold on.”

A glance at her coworkers. “Taking a quick break.”

Without another word, she led him through the employee-only door, pushing into the alley behind the café—a cramped, shadowed stretch of pavement lined with delivery crates and scattered cigarette butts.

The moment Chris stepped outside, the thick scent of smoke hit him.

A waitress—one he didn’t recognize—stood near the back entrance, cigarette pinched between two fingers. She took one last slow draw, flicked the end, then stubbed it out beneath her heel, barely acknowledging them as she pushed open the metal door, letting it slam shut behind her.

Now, it was just Indie and Chris.

The distant murmur of city traffic hummed beyond the alley, the scent of asphalt mixing with old coffee grounds dumped near the trash bin.

Indie folded her arms, gripping them too tightly.

Chris kicked at some stray pebbles.

“Why?” he asked, voice tighter than he meant for it to be.

She exhaled. “Why what?”

He looked up, eyes sharp. Angry. Hurting.

“Why did you dump me like that?”

Indie swallowed hard. “Chris—”

“No. Just say it.”

Her jaw clenched.

“I made a mistake,” she whispered. “A huge one.”

Chris scoffed, his laugh dry and humorless. “No kidding.”

Indie let out a shaky breath.

“It’s hard to explain. I was so lonely. I missed you so much. Somehow I ended up struggling so hard at high school, so I barely graduated. Means I got rejected from all the good colleges I wanted to get into. Sentenced to a couple years of community college till I maybe can transfer. Like that wasn’t embarrassing enough, I am also the youngest of five kids.

But you wouldn’t understand, Chris. You’re an only child—no one to compare yourself to. No one casting shadows for you to live in. Your parents are super-supportive, mine tried to be but with five of us there it gets diluted. And my siblings, they’re all something. And I’m—nothing.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

“Spencer, the oldest one lives at home, but not because he’s stuck, he actually had his own place here in town, but moved back home—because he and our mom run her restaurant together. Spence has been helping her ever since he graduated high school, and while working with mom, he somehow managed to get a culinary degree, then helped her turn that place into something super-successful. And somehow, working side by side fused them closer, like they share the same heartbeat. More like best friends or business partners than mother and son.
Then there’s Keanu, living in Sulani with his gorgeous girlfriend, Brielle. His entire life is an Insta-Moment—always another adventure, another breathtaking view.
Phoenix is chasing music—and she’s making it happen. Small engagements, but people love her. Rave reviews. She’s actually going somewhere, looks totally legit up on that stage. Of course that won dad’s heart, like he is vicariously living out his own music dreams through her now.
And Robin, she was a wallflower all throughout school, now twenty-two she’s running some business, dating some rich guy. And then there’s me. Nothing to show for but failures. Like, the harder I try, the harder I fail. The one who couldn’t make it, the one who got left behind. The black sheep, dark stain. Trust me, Chris, the last thing I wanted was to lose you. But … well …”

She hesitated.

Chris felt sick.

“But well – what?” he pressed, voice sharp.

Indie squeezed her arms tighter.

“There was this guy,” she admitted. “I don’t even remember everything that happened. I think he was going through some shit too, he was drinking by himself. But I woke up, and—” Her voice shook. “I knew I screwed up when I realized I wasn’t in my bed, but in some cheap motel next to a dude whose name I didn’t even know.”

Chris’ stomach tightened painfully.

“Wow,” he muttered. “So, what, you decided to just… replace me with the nameless dude from a drunken night at a bar? He must have been some great lay if he left that kind of a lasting impression.”

Indie flinched.

“It wasn’t like that,” she whispered, eyes shining. “I was just—I was a wreck. So, some friends and I went out drinking. And man, I got so lit. I honestly can’t remember much before waking up the morning and feeling like a monster. He felt like shit too when he woke up, turns out he had a girlfriend too and was actually living with her. In Newcrest. Like, where I grew up. So awkward. Now when I go home to see my parents or hang at mom’s restaurant, I have to keep looking over my shoulder. Well, anyway, first we decided to just let it go and never speak of it again. But that went down the drain when I found out I was—”

She stopped herself.

Chris’ brows furrowed.

“You were what?”

Indie exhaled sharply, wiping at her face like she was trying to stop herself from crying.

“Pregnant.”

Chris felt the word slam into him like a freight train.

Everything around him blurred, like the world had suddenly shifted out of focus.

Indie kept talking, but he barely heard her.

“I thought—maybe it was yours at first. Hoping anyway. But we always used protection, and he… didn’t, I think. Neither he nor I can really remember. So, it had to be his.” She let out a shaky laugh, like she hated herself for it. “I was already a mess, and then suddenly, I had this entire situation that I didn’t know how to handle. After the disappointment with barely graduating high school and not getting into uni I just couldn’t go to mom and dad with that now. I was so embarrassed. And with my dad’s history of addictions I thought if I lay that on them now he might slide right back down that slippery slope and then I could add killing my own dad to my laundry list of screw-ups. I legit didn’t know what to do. Felt so alone. One mistake. Just one single mistake.”

Chris couldn’t breathe.

His stomach tightened, the skin still raw from the removal treatment, like everything was suddenly too much.

Indie twisted the thin ring on her finger, her voice barely above a whisper.

“So, we eloped.”

Chris felt dizzy.

“You—” His voice cracked. “You married some guy you barely knew because of this?”

Indie wiped at her cheek. “We both felt like we had to try and do the right thing. Well, let’s just say my parents weren’t happy with me. And neither was his girlfriend. To be honest, I fought with my parents, worst fight in history, we all said things to each other that can never be taken back. I really fucked up badly, Chris. So we moved here to San Myshuno, tiny shitty apartment. He’s a programmer. And I am, well, picking up shifts when not at class with the other rejects who couldn’t get into a better college or didn’t have the money, which both apply to me.”

Chris let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“So that’s why you dumped me over the phone like I was nothing?” His voice rose. “Because you got wasted, slept with some guy, got pregnant, put a ring on it and decided that was your new life?”

“Don’t make it sound like I took the easy way out. What else was I to do?”

“Umm, I don’t know Indie, maybe call me and ask for help? I don’t know how to unfuck the fuckery you got yourself into, but I am sure you and I could have come up with something better than …. this! Maybe we would have broken up, pretty sure we would actually, I mean, you cheated on me and got yourself preggers, but I wouldn’t have left you destitute enough to marry some one-night-stand rando who doesn’t know how to put on a condom! What kind of life is that supposed to be for you and that kid?!”

Indie winced, eyes glistening. “Ouch. Like I needed to feel any worse …”

“Well, excuse me for being upset here. And you wanna know what hurts?” Chris yanked up the hem of his hoodie, pulling down the waistband of his jeans just enough to reveal the red, swollen skin, the first session of removal glaring back at them. A thick gauze bandage covered part of the fading ink, edges taped to his stomach, a deep angry blotch peeking from underneath. “This.”

Indie stared, eyes widening.

“You—” She blinked fast. “You got a tattoo for me?”

Chris let out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah. Real genius move, huh?” He let out a bitter laugh, gesturing toward the raw, swollen skin beneath the bandage. “Getting it removed—because I’m not walking around with ink for a girl who was probably dumping me while saying her vows to the guy who knocked her up. You were screwing some random one-night-stand while my dumb ass was getting this stupid homage to you permanently tatted on me. Would almost be funny if it weren’t so damn pathetic. This hurts like hell, and I got at least nine more appointments to look forward to. I had you so wrong, Indie. You are not even close to the girl I thought you were.”

Indie covered her mouth, eyes filled with tears.

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” she choked out.

“There is nothing to say. Clearly I was invested a lot more in us than you were. Doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters anymore,” Chris muttered, shoving his hoodie back down. “I gotta go. My dad’s waiting.”

Indie reached for him, but he stepped back.

“Wait!” she called. “You’ll be in town long enough for nine more times of … that?”

Chris grimaced, shrugging.

Indie bit her lip. “Can I see you again? Maybe when I’m not working, so we can really talk?”

Chris met her gaze for one long second.

Then—

“No thanks,” he muttered. “A) I got nothing to say beyond this, B) I kinda fucking hate you right now, and C) I’m grounded because of the stupid mistake on my stomach.”

He turned before she could respond, pushing back inside the café, leaving her behind, sinking down onto the pavement, sobbing into her hands.

San Myshuno – The Car Ride

Chris slid into the passenger seat, the door shutting a little too hard, rattling in its frame.

Connor didn’t say a word. Just drove.

The weight of the day sat heavy on Chris’ shoulders—like he was carrying too much, like he couldn’t quite sit up straight.

The city blurred past, neon signs flickering against the windshield, the hum of traffic filling the quiet between them.

Chris stared out the window, jaw tight, eyes glossy, his breath uneven like he was barely holding it together.

Connor sighed, looking over at his son, his hands lightly on the steering wheel.

“What happened?”

Chris clenched his fists.

The air in his lungs felt thick, like breathing hurt.

“Exactly what you think.”

Connor didn’t push.

Instead, he reached over, clapping a firm hand on Chris’ knee—not forceful, not probing. Just there.

“Feel better now?”

Chris let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head.

“No.” His throat tightened. “I left her sobbing. And the worst part?” He let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. “I thought telling her what I really thought about it all would feel good. But all I wanted to do was hug her. Comfort her. What’s wrong with me, Dad?”

Connor squeezed his knee once before shifting gears, merging onto the freeway, streetlights casting moving shadows across the dash.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, kid,” he murmured. “You have compassion. A big heart. And one day, you’ll find the right girl—someone worthy of all that.”

Chris swallowed hard.

The ache in his stomach wasn’t just from the laser.

Connor didn’t say anything else.

Just let him sit in it.

Let the exhaustion settle.

Chris leaned back, pressing his fingers against his aching stomach, feeling the heat still radiating from the raw skin.

He closed his eyes, head tilting against the seat.

For the first time all day, the adrenaline wore off and he felt truly exhausted.

San Myshuno – The Hotel Room

The hotel room carried the scent of fabric softener and faint antiseptic—a subtle, clean smell from the fresh linens, mixed with the lingering sterility of the tattoo clinic.

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, now dressed in a loose, navy-blue T-shirt and black athletic shorts, the soft fabric barely brushing against his aching stomach. His blonde hair—a shade darker than his dad’s, more gold than sun-bleached—was still slightly damp from a shower, strands falling forward over his light blue eyes, shadowed with exhaustion.

Chris was built like his dad—tall, broad-shouldered, strong from years of sports—but leaner, not quite as linebacker-heavy. His tan was lighter, but still there, the proof of someone who spent time outdoors even if he wasn’t quite as obsessive about it as Connor.

Connor, now changed as well—gray sweatpants, a fitted white T-shirt that did nothing to hide the muscle bulk beneath. His long, light golden hair, usually kept loose and pushed back, was slightly tousled, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it after changing. He stood by the mini-bar, rifling through his travel case, pulling out a small bottle of prescription-strength painkillers before tossing it onto the bed next to Chris.

“One now, one in the morning. That’s it. We’ll see how you do tomorrow.”

Chris scoffed, inspecting the label.

“What I need is a morphine drip at this point. Do you even really love me at all, Dad?” Chris sighed theatrically.

Connor shot him a look, arms crossing.

“You’re lucky I’m giving you these. They’ll have you mellow enough not to whine every five minutes about your ouchies—but not so knocked out that you drool all over yourself and the hotel pillows.”

Chris huffed a laugh, barely there, popping the cap and dry-swallowing one tablet before flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

Connor grabbed his travel case, took a step toward his own room, then paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Oh, and just so we’re clear—daddy’s gonna be collecting that bottle back and counting them in the morning. If that number is even slightly off, I will personally escort your dumbass back to the clinic and let them laser your tattoo removal scars into shapes for my amusement.”

He stood there. A beat.

Then—

“Joking aside, do you want to talk about it, kid?”

Chris didn’t answer immediately.

He let out a long, slow breath.

“I don’t know.”

Connor nodded like he understood, even if he didn’t press.

The minutes stretched, the weight of the day pressing down hard, exhaustion sinking into Chris’ bones.

Then—

A buzz.

Chris rolled his head to the side, eyeing his phone.

A text.

Indie.

I’m off work tomorrow.
If you still want to talk, let’s meet.

Chris stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

The silence stretched again.

Connor knocked his knuckles against the doorframe to recall Chris from his mesmerized stares and remind him he was still here, watching him.

Chris exhaled sharply.

“Yup, that was her. Wants to meet. Would you go?”

Connor didn’t answer right away.

He just studied his son, thinking.

Slowly, he rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, fingers dragging lightly over the faint stubble, the motion slow, contemplative—like he was testing the weight of the question before committing to an answer.

Connor tossed his travel bag into his own room, then leaned against the doorframe of the connecting doors, arms crossing over his chest, his expression carefully unreadable as he continued to watch Chris.

“I don’t know, kid. Depends on what you’re hoping to get out of it.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“To be perfectly honest, from where I sit, I don’t really see a point. She’s married now. About to have another man’s kid. You live too far apart to even attempt a friendship. Nothing about this ends clean or easy for you.
So, ask yourself—are you looking for closure, or just a reason to keep hanging on? Because at some point, that stops being closure and starts being the emotional equivalent of picking at the same scab over and over, wondering why it won’t heal.”

Chris frowned, staring at his hands.

What was he hoping for?

Closure?

Or something else he wasn’t ready to say out loud—some fairytale ending that doesn’t exist in real life?
Maybe just a chance to say something that didn’t feel like a punch to the ribs.
Just to see her one more time.
One last time.
Since they never really got to say goodbye.
His stomach throbbed, a reminder of everything he was trying to erase.

Connor let the silence linger for a few beats before standing, clapping a hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“You should sleep on it, kid. It’s late. We both had a hell of a day, and mine starts early again tomorrow. Sleep in—you’ve earned it.
As much as I enjoy basking in your dumbassery coming back to bite you, I’m still your dad, and I hate seeing you hurt. The pills should take the edge off the physical pain—sadly, there’s no medicine for the other.”

Chris didn’t argue.

Just nodded.

“Night, kid,” he murmured.

“Night, Dad.”

As Connor clicked the lamp off, leaving the room in darkness, Chris stared at the glowing screen, the cursor blinking at him like it was waiting for him to decide.

Connor lingered for a moment, then exhaled, gripping the door handle.

With a quiet click, he shut the adjoining room door—not locked, just closed—enough to say goodnight without sealing himself off completely.

Chris, still staring at his phone, barely hesitated.

Then—

He typed.

When? Where?

San Myshuno – The Morning After

Chris woke up slowly, a deep, dull ache settling beneath his skin. The burning had faded from sharp to simmering discomfort, but it was still there—a reminder of yesterday, of everything he was trying to erase.

His phone buzzed.

Still half-asleep, he reached for it, blinking against the too-bright screen.

A notification reminder for an unread message.

Indie.

He frowned slightly, thumb swiping to unlock his phone.

Her message wasn’t new.

Sent last night.

Shortly after his own text.

He had been passed out, never seeing it until now.

11 AM. Brunch. The bistro on Fifth.

Chris stared at the words, his heartbeat steady, unreadable. Then at the current time, almost 8 AM.

No gut reaction. No sudden urge to reply.

Just—thinking.

He sat up, pressing his palms to his face, exhaling slowly.

Then—he reached for the pill bottle his dad Connor had given him, twisted off the cap, and dry-swallowed the second tablet.

The ache wouldn’t leave completely, but it would dull enough. Eventually.

Chris pushed out of bed, stretching despite the pull of sore muscles, making his way to the bathroom—normal morning motions, just a little heavier today.

When he stepped into the main part of the hotel suite, he glanced toward the adjoining door, his left open, Connor’s side was shut, unlocked, but he room behind it was quiet. A note was taped to the door.

Chris pulled it off, unfolding it, already knowing exactly how his dad would sound before he even read the words:

“Went to the conference. Today it’s over at noon. Hotel has breakfast downstairs till 9. If you get up later, make sure you eat something, I’ll even spring for room service but keep it sane. ~Dad.”

Simple. Straightforward.

Chris ran a hand through his hair, then let out a quiet huff—a half-laugh, half-sigh.

And then—

He made his choice.

Chris picked up his phone, thumb hovering over the screen for a beat—then he typed.

A message.

One that said everything it needed to.

He sent it.

Then—

Chris walked downstairs to breakfast.

Alone.

He wouldn’t go to the bistro on Fifth for brunch with Indigo Blu. Breakfast wasn’t a distraction. It wasn’t avoidance. It was deliberate.

He ate slowly, staring out the window, watching the city move on—and somewhere in that moment, he realized—

So was he.

San Myshuno – Later

Chris didn’t stay in the hotel.

He had breakfast, then went back to his room.

Couple hours later he grabbed his coat, put on his shoes and left.

He didn’t sit there dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed. Feel sorry for himself. Nor did he rush into silly pointless hope.

Instead, he walked.

A long walk—farther than necessary, deeper into the city, streets shifting from familiar to unfamiliar, every step pulling him farther from yesterday.

It wasn’t just clearing his head.

It was symbolic for him, choosing to move forward.

San Myshuno – The Conference Hall

By the time Chris reached the conference hall, it was just right about noon—the exact moment the morning session broke.

The doors poured open, releasing a wave of high-level medical professionals, suits shifting through fluid conversations—half-laughs, brisk nods, hands exchanging business cards.

Connor stepped out among them, jacket in hand, talking with Dr. Bradford Cunningham—his brother-in-law, an elite surgeon and the owner of the clinic Connor worked at back home, along with dozens more across the world.

Brad stood a few inches shorter than Connor, his medium blonde curls neatly styled, carrying the effortless polish of old wealth—boyish in appearance but commanding in presence, the kind of man who had owned an operating room since his twenties.

As the conversation wrapped, Bradford caught sight of Chris—his expression shifting slightly.

“Chris,” Bradford greeted, nodding once. “Good to see you, kid.”

Chris offered a half-smile as he approached, still catching his breath from the long walk.

Connor, now noticing his son’s arrival, arched a brow.

“Where did you come from, son? How did you get here?”

Chris shrugged. “Walked.”

Connor gave him a quick once-over, his brows pulling together.

“You walked here?” His tone edged with mild disbelief. “That’s… six miles and change.”

Chris rubbed his jaw, unbothered.

“Very effervescent. Cleared some cobwebs.”

Bradford chuckled, shaking his head slightly at the exchange before checking his watch.

“I should get home—Bri’ll be expecting me soon and the kids will be home from school before long.” He met Connor’s gaze. “I’ll tell her you said hi, and you two better stop by for dinner before you fly back home. We’d love to have you. Or hell, stay the weekend with us.”

Connor grinned slightly.

“Sounds great, Brad, but Keira’s flying in this weekend.”

Bradford didn’t miss a beat.

“Bring her! We have the room, and the kids would love to see Uncle Connor, Aunt Keira, and Cousin Chris. Brindleton Bay is beautiful this time of year. And our pool is heated, as is the hot tub. Just saying.”

His smile was genuine, his tone easy.

Chris watched them both, their familiar exchange effortless.

Connor nodded. “I’ll see what we can do. See ya tomorrow, Brad.”

Brad tipped his chin slightly, then offered one last nod to Chris before stepping away, heading for his car.

Connor, watching him go for a moment, finally turned fully to Chris, stepping slightly away from the lingering conference crowd.

Now—it was just them.

Chris rocked back on his heels, then exhaled.

“You up for doing something, Dad?”

Connor’s brow arched slightly.

“What kind of ‘something’?”

Chris smiled—small, but real.

“I don’t know, there has to be something fun to do in this great big metropolis.”

Connor squinted at him, suspicious. “You wanna do something fun? With me? Out of free will?”

Chris grinned.

“Yeah, why? We do stuff together back home all the time. So, can a son not want to spend some quality time with the best dad ever?”

Connor blinked, then laughed—sharp, abrupt, real.

“Now I know you’re up to something. What did you do this time, kid?”

Chris shook his head, smirking slightly.

“Nah, nothing. Just felt like it. Seriously, Dad, I just wanna hang. No strings. No drama.”

Connor studied him again, then finally gave in, tossing his jacket over his shoulder.

“Alright. How about we start with lunch? I am starving. There’s a real good Korean BBQ place not far from here if you can walk a few more blocks.”

Chris snorted. “Korean BBQ? You never turn down protein.”

Connor grinned. “Damn right.”

“While at lunch, we can see if we can come up with some fun shit to do.” Connor gestured ahead. “Maybe we get matching father-son tattoos, huh Chris?”

Chris groaned, shaking his head. “Hilarious, Dad. Once I got rid of the one I have, there will be no more ink for this guy. That lesson is thoroughly learned.”

San Myshuno – The Walk

As they walked, Chris reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone— Tapped the screen— Scrolled—

Chris turned the phone, holding it out.

“I decided not to see her again, and I told her why.”

Connor took the phone, reading it.

Paused.

Then—slowly nodded.

Chris didn’t ask what he thought about it.

He already knew.

Connor handed the phone back, then—without warning—wrapped an arm around Chris’ shoulders, pulling him in briefly, pressing a firm, fatherly kiss to his head.

Chris groaned, stiffening slightly. “Dad—come on, people are gonna get the wrong idea.”

Connor snorted, pulling back just enough to shoot him a smirk.

“Shut up or I’ll push you into the wall and really smooch around on you to give them something to talk about.”

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “You’re messed up.”

Connor grinned, slapping his back. “I am, and you take after me.”

Chris rolled his eyes—but didn’t pull away from his father’s embrace as they walked.

“Hey, Chris?”

“Yes, Dad?”

Connor exhaled, his voice steady but warm.

“You impressed me. That was a very mature way to handle this. Well done, kid.”

Chris paused, then smirked.

“Cool. Maybe then you could get off my back about that damn tat?”

Connor shrugged easily. “You got it, kid.”

They walked on, easier now, the weight of the morning not quite gone, but lighter.