Chapter 21 Nyah
NYAH
Sunday was meant to be a lazy day—slow and gentle, a pause before another week began. I needed that rhythm—the predictability of church, Patty’s cooking, Lucas beside me—because when life moved too fast, it reminded me how easily things could slip out of control.
While sipping my morning tea, I checked my phone for messages and gave Lucas a few extra minutes of quiet time playing in his room in lieu of his missed hours of sleep.
He’d been overtired, wired with excitement and emotions.
I let him have those minutes because childhood should be soft where it can be.
A message grabbed my attention.
DONNA
Nyah, I need an urgent favour. Call when you wake up. It’s really important.
I immediately dialled Donna’s number.
“Nyah, I don’t know who else to turn to,” Donna blurted as soon as she picked up. “I need to borrow $10,000.”
The number sent a cold shock through me. “$10,000? What the hell, Don? What’s happened?” My voice sounded sharper than I intended, but shock has a way of stripping gentleness away.
Sobbing, Donna told me how her stepfather had gambled away her mother’s savings, and hoping to recover the loss, he’d borrowed $10,000 from a loan shark.
My chest burned with fury.
“And then he lost that, too. He spilled the beans to Mom last night, and now he needs to pay them back $12,500 in a week or else the loan shark will come after all of us.” Fear threaded through her words.
This wasn’t about money anymore. It was about safety, and I knew how much that mattered.
Rage surged through me at the recklessness, at the cruelty of consequences that always seemed to land on the innocent.
I swallowed it down. Anger wouldn’t protect them.
Action might. This was the moment—where choices narrowed, and priorities revealed themselves.
I calmed Donna down, promising I would arrange something.
I wanted to call Elle and see what we could do together, but Elle and Karl had plunged all their savings into their mortgage. I couldn’t ask that of them. Plus, it wasn’t my place to share Donna’s news with her, anyway. Donna’s fear wasn’t mine to distribute.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have the money; I’d earmarked it for something else.
Something important. Something I had already delayed too many times.
How long would it take Donna to pay me back?
Three or four months? Surely not longer than that.
I clung to the optimism because the alternative was admitting what I was sacrificing.
I made a quick call to Dr. Sloan and left a message. Even as I dialled, guilt wrapped itself around my ribs.
“Hi, it’s Nyah. I just wanted to let you know that I will have to delay the procedure for a couple of months. Something has come up. I’ll be ready by early next year. Until then, could you please arrange for a stronger dose of meds? Thanks.”
The words came out practiced, controlled—too calm for a decision that mattered this much.
I hung up, knowing he would return my call or message sooner than I would want him to.
Even though my health was a priority, I was sure I could survive with continued medication for a little longer.
I had survived worse with less. That’s what I told myself.
And Donna needed my help immediately. And that was the truth I couldn’t ignore.
My phone buzzed.
DR. SLOAN
Another couple of months, Nyah? You can’t manage with the meds forever. I’ve told you I would help you out if money were the issue. I’m very worried about you, but I’ll have your medication ready on Tuesday. Please don’t put off this surgery again!
Guilt ensconced itself in my chest. He was right—and I hated that he was right.
I kept my reply brief.
With that sorted, I messaged Patty to confirm that I would pick her up for church and then join her for lunch. I was trying to figure out a suitable plan of action for transportation when a message pinged through.
CALEB
Good morning. I hope you got to sleep in. I had a great time last night. Thank you for including me. See you soon.
See you soon? I frowned at the words, rereading them twice.
Had I said something I didn’t remember? Promised something I hadn’t meant to?
My mind ran through the previous night, the dancing, the closeness, the way my body had reacted when I hadn’t thought it would.
Sending him a quick reply, I desperately tried to think of what I might have said that he’d misconstrued.
My phone rang.
Thinking it was Donna and bracing myself for further sobs from her, I immediately picked up without looking at the caller ID.
“You said you were going to church today.” Caleb’s voice sounded cheery. “As you haven’t a car, and I haven’t spoken to the good man upstairs for a while, would you mind if I joined you?”
“Umm…” I hesitated, a little surprised he wanted to come. But who was I to question kindness when it appeared so easily? “Sure,” I said. “Mass is at noon, about twenty minutes from here. Patty—my old neighbour—lives ten minutes away. Would you mind if we picked her up, too?”
“No problem. I’ll be there by 11:30.”
After Mass, we headed back to Patty’s apartment, where the aroma of cookies and the scent of her citrus disinfectant wipes filled the air.
Over lunch, Caleb entertained us with stories from his travels. He spoke easily, confidently, and Patty listened like every word mattered.
Patty liked him; I could tell by the way she reached over and touched his hand every now and then.
Later, while I helped carry out the leftover dishes, Patty said, “You two would make a lovely couple, you know.”
I laughed awkwardly. Deflection had always been my strongest skill. Besides, it didn’t feel like Caleb wanted anything more. He wasn’t shy—if he did, he would have made a move by now. Men like him didn’t hesitate. They chose.
“It’s been two years since Harper left for New York,” Patty said, breaking in on my thoughts. “You have to move on eventually.”
It sounded so neat when she said it, like time alone was enough to heal something that had split me open.
Harper… the memory surfaced, vivid and uninvited.
I had first met Harper Pearson at a restaurant in the winter of 2009.
Sitting at the table beside me, he had come to my rescue when a meeting with a business tycoon had gone wrong.
He had invited the man to leave and was in the process of getting security to help before the guy got the message.
We’d ended up going out for dinner. An unplanned beginning that felt oddly inevitable.
Harper was a brilliant, ambitious lawyer, and the first person I had ever told about my past. Vowing always to protect me, he had professed he loved me just two months after we had started dating.
Too soon, I’d thought. But he hadn’t pushed when I couldn’t say it back.
That patience had meant everything to me.
It was my first relationship, and I was wary.
I took a while to become emotionally attached, but he was patient and understanding.
I remembered the first time I had asked him to stay.
I was terrified by the prospect of intimacy, but he had just held me close, and we slept. No pressure. No expectations.
I rewarded that act of kindness the following night. After leaving Lucas with Patty, we went on a date before going back to his apartment. I felt safe in his arms, and his voice was soothing as his touch sent my body into paroxysms of pleasure.
After five months together, I knew that I loved him; I’d wanted to tell him, too, but fate had other plans. Fate always did.
The night he told me his dream had come true—that he was starting his own firm—I had been genuinely proud of him. Truly happy.
He wanted Lucas and me to move to New York with him, as if uprooting my entire life were simple.
I wanted to want it. But wanting something doesn’t make it possible.
I had built stability in Vancouver for my son—routine, safety, a life that worked.
I couldn’t abandon that for a man I had been dating only six months, no matter how much I cared about him.
Two months into the long-distance arrangement, I decided to surprise him.
I flew to New York and waited across the street from his building, my suitcase beside me.
That’s when I saw him.
Harper walked toward the building with a woman beside him, her hand brushing his arm. He opened the door for her, and they disappeared inside together.
My chest constricted, but instead of leaving, I followed. I told myself there had to be an explanation. I rode the elevator up and stopped outside his apartment door.
At first, there was silence.
Then I heard them.
The laughter, the low sounds, and then the unmistakable rhythm and sound of two bodies finding pleasure in each other.
I stood there frozen in the hallway, my hand hovering inches from the door, my heart pounding so loudly I thought it might echo through the walls.
By the time I walked away, something inside me had already gone quiet. Whatever we had was broken, and I didn’t want an ending filled with accusations and explanations that wouldn’t change anything.
So I said nothing.
The next week I flew to New York again and ended it face-to-face. It took a long time to get over him. His calls and messages afterward only made it harder, reopening wounds that were trying to heal.
Eventually, I stopped answering.
Then one day, his final message came through.
HARPER
I’ll always be there for you, no matter what and whenever you need me. Take care. Love to Lucas.
I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present.
Patty continued to preach to me. “You can’t be alone forever, and Caleb seems nice.”
“He is nice,” I said, continuing to wipe the dishes. “His date on Friday night probably thought so too.”
“He has a girlfriend?”