39. Chapter 39
OLIVER
Shit.
They say everything happens for a reason, but sometimes timing can be so shitty. I do my best to keep calm and listen to what the person on the other end of the phone is telling me before hanging up. I throw my phone on the bed and rake my hands through my curls.
From the beginning of my therapy journey, I stripped away the cool-headed businessman persona to truly work on myself for both my benefit and for my loved ones.
I still have a long way to go, but I’ve been busting my arse to make progress, even if that meant doing things that made me terribly uncomfortable.
Including a very unnerving conversation with my mother about our past. I’m planning to fly over to her soon because I deserve answers.
I understand now that a part of my healing is accepting what happened in the past and finding a new way to move on, but before I can do that, I knew it would be my mission to find my mother’s ex, Mario.
I haven’t got over being separated from him; the half a year we spent together moulded the small part of my childhood I did have.
I never looked for him before because I assumed the distance between us would be better if it stayed that way, that he would never want to see me again after what my mother did to him…
That I didn’t have the right, I wasn’t his real son, I wasn’t his family, and although he was the closest thing I had to a dad, nothing felt like enough of an excuse to dig up the past.
But then Luna came along.
The universe went out of its way to continuously put her in front of me until I got the message. I formed a relationship with Luna, the kind I’d never had before, and I didn’t realise how important it was to have her in my life until I fucked it up.
I’ve been writing her emails nonstop for the past few months. She never replies, and I have no idea if she will even forgive me when I can finally see her again, but for once in my life, I’m going to try. Try to beg for forgiveness; don’t run away and give her what she deserves.
Everything that’s happened over the past six months has led to this moment, led to me finally making my way back to Luna, searching for the long-lost father figure I always yearned for. Finding Mario is a massive part of my healing process to becoming the man Luna needs me to be.
If I ever have a chance of being with her again, getting married, having children, and spending the rest of our lives together, I need to be a man who tries, not a man who hides behind his fractured soul by burying himself in his work and holding onto unhealthy resentment towards his mother.
And that starts right now. I just got off the phone with the private investigator I hired to find Mario. None of our conversations back in May went well, dead end after dead end, but I refused to give up; after all, there is one thing money can buy, and that’s information.
After months of looking, they found him.
He was supposedly still living in the same area back in Italy, alive and well.
Three words I desperately needed to hear because all this time I assumed he died from a broken heart, that the betrayal of whatever my mother did to him when we left that night was enough to kill him, because that man was nothing but good.
My phone pinged whilst resting on the bed. Taking a deep breath, I went over to fetch it, punched in my passcode, and clicked the email. At first, I hoped it was from Luna, but I knew deep down it wasn’t; though it was something that allowed me to breathe lighter.
A blank subject line with a photo attached to the email.
I clicked it, and there he was, the same man I’d known all those years ago but much older, tanned but a little weary from how the last twenty-four years had been treating him, tired eyes from years of hard work, his usual slim frame and the hair that used to be a shade of dark brown was now a wispy salt-and-pepper shade.
My heart raced in relief.
Thank god, my next trip to Italy won’t be to a gravestone. But now that I know where he is, I have to see him in person, but to do that means taking a detour from going back to my Luna.
I know it wasn’t fair to keep Luna and Theo apart for much longer.
He’d asked me every day for six months straight when he’d see her again, the way he cried when I told him we couldn’t see her for a while.
It was a brutal reminder of how badly I fucked everything up.
Theo was still just a child, so I couldn’t take my frustrations out on him.
All this time, I missed seeing that bright a smile on his face, that reached all the way to his eyes, but the moment he opened the life-size Birdo plushie that Luna brought him as a birthday gift, I finally saw that smile again.
Then I knew we had to go back.
Though he’d been attending school here in Korea, I know Theo missed his school back home, his friends, and our home.
He missed Luna most of all; he missed our family dynamic.
All things I knew just by observing him; he was happy during his little birthday party with his new school friends and Min-Joon’s family.
It all became painfully obvious when he blew out his candles.
He wished to go home.
It’s what he wanted most. That’s why, despite the silent treatment and all the crying he did when we first got here, Theo remained a well-behaved boy. His spark was gone, but he hadn’t caused any trouble, and after putting him to bed that night, I shed a few tears for my little man.
From that day, the plan was to tell Theo we were going home for Christmas. That I was taking him home to Luna. But I hadn’t expected to get that call in the middle of packing everything up. I can’t go back to my future wife until I’ve dealt with the rest of my baggage first.
However, up until my phone rang a few minutes ago, we’d been packing and preparing to head back to London, but now I’m conflicted.
I want to go home and get my wife back as soon as possible, but with this new source of information, I feel it might be more important to deal with what’s left of my baggage first.
I take a deep breath and recalibrate the plan. When Theo comes home, I’ll calmly explain that we are going home; I just…had to meet someone first. He’ll be stroppy and declare he wants Halmeoni or Min-Joon to put him to bed tonight, but he’ll understand and cheer me on the next day.
Next, I need to call Min-Joon. If I catch him during his lunch break, it should be enough time to tell him about the Mario situation. As much as he annoys the hell out of me, he’s my brother, and he’ll give me the push I need to do this. I bring up his caller ID when suddenly the doorbell rings.
Tossing my phone in my pocket, I head to answer it. Knowing it’s probably the moving company coming to collect what we’re shipping back to England, but I could have sworn they weren’t due here for another hour.
“Ollie,” my mother recites in a civil tone as I open the door, then invites herself in.
“Mother, what are you doing here?” I ask, oddly not surprised by her presence.
“I came to see Theo,” she states.
“He’s at school and will be for the next few hours.
Something you would know if you ever communicated with me.
” I retort while her fingers are punching away at the keyboard on her phone.
This woman was always glued to her phone, yet she never replied or interacted with any of the messages or photos I’ve sent her of Theo over the last few years.
“Oh well, I’ll leave his present for him when he gets home,” she smiles, but I already know it’s a gift Theo can’t have, knowing our mother’s carelessness.
“What did you get him?” I ask.
“A mini fridge,” she answers, and puts the paper bag at the foot of the sofa, removing the plastic from the sofa to take a seat.
In that moment, she looks at me. Awaiting a reaction because, yes, a mini fridge is a stupid gift for a seven-year-old.
But I remain silent; I don’t protest or argue, I don’t tell her I’ll make sure he gets it, nor do I force small talk and for once - I’m okay with that.
The silence almost swallows us whole, a stark contrast to the last time we saw each other. Where we screamed at one another until our voices went hoarse, though right now I have nothing to say.
Therapy has shown me that my mother does hold more love for my brother than she does me. Her gift-giving may be borderline senile, but she never forgets to bring Theo something, whereas I never received anything from her, not even a birthday cake or gift.
Yet, there is no more anger, resentment or hostility towards her. Her favouritism does sting, but mostly I just feel…acceptance.
“Well, then I’ll be going,” she states, breaking the silence, rising from the sofa.
“You and I will never have a proper relationship.” I voice, causing her to sit back down and avert her gaze towards the blank TV on the wall.
“The two of us can’t even share pleasantries, and let’s face it, if you never gave birth to Theo, we wouldn’t even see each other.” I point out, from my place, standing in the doorway of the living room, watching her close her eyes as confirmation.
“I’m not perfect, but being in therapy - and yes, you heard right, I’m in therapy because I want to understand what’s wrong with me, so I can finally stop hurting the people around me.
I understand that isn’t something you’ll ever want to do, but that’s the thing: you and I are too different, and that’s okay.
” I continue, folding my arms across my chest, and my mother stays quiet.
“I’ve always known I won’t ever have a mother who would comfort me when I cry, who’ll praise and brag about my achievements or be a loving grandmother who takes an interest in my future children.
But even at my current age, I am still struggling to heal from the repercussions of being your son,” I admit, moving to sit on the sofa opposite her.