Ring - 1. Chapter 1

Sitting alone in the apartment, I can hear everything. The hum of the fridge as it kicks on, then off again. A faint drip-drip-drip echoes from the leaky faucet in the kitchen—I should get that fixed. I hear the neighbors’ children above, their feet pattering across the floor. It’s not the silence that gets to me; it’s the noise. The emptiness behind every sound.

I used to love the chaos of family life—the laughter, the noise of Alex and Keith running through the house. I remember Cammie calling us to dinner, her voice filling the room, grounding everything. Those were the good times. Happy times. Now, they’re just memories, and sometimes, those memories feel heavier than anything else.

I try not to think about it too much, but how can I avoid it? I’m alone now. And the worst part is, I know I did this to myself. It’s my own fault, and it’s killing me, but what right do I have to feel sorry for myself? After what I did to Cammie, to the boys? Maybe this is what I deserve.

I close my eyes, and it all comes back. I can still see Cammie on our wedding day, glowing in her grandmother’s dress. God, she was beautiful. That smile of hers could light up any room, and on that day, it lit up my world. She’d planned everything to perfection—every last detail, from the flowers to the venue. It was her day. No, our day.

I remember the way she looked at me during the ceremony. She believed in us, in our future together. So did I. Or at least I tried to. I thought that maybe, just maybe, getting married, settling down, would fix me. That being with Cammie would change me, make me… normal.

I push that thought away. But it’s there, gnawing at me. It always is.

Our honeymoon was magical—one week in the Maldives. We shouldn’t have splurged, we were just starting our careers, but it felt like the right thing to do. We came back to real life, and a few months later, Cammie got sick. We thought it was the flu, but the doctor said it was something else. She was pregnant. We weren’t ready for kids, but we didn’t even consider giving him up.

Keith came into the world a little early, but strong. A full head of hair, a loud cry—Cammie called him her little terror. As he grew, it was clear he took after her side of the family—stubborn, fiery, full of life.

Alex came seven years later, quieter and calmer than his brother. Keith didn’t like the idea of sharing us—he always wanted to be the center of attention. Cammie and I had hoped for a girl, but life had other plans. Still, we were happy. Those were the good days, when Keith eventually embraced his role as the big brother and took great care of Alex.

But they couldn’t last, could they? I knew, deep down, that I was living a lie. I knew it from the moment I said, “I do.” But I wanted to believe I could be different. That I could be the man Cammie deserved. I thought I could control those urges, that if I buried them deep enough, they’d disappear.

But they didn’t.

I was always good at hiding things. Even in high school, when I was sneaking around with boys, no one ever suspected. Maybe it was the worst-kept secret, or maybe I was just too good at pretending. By the time I met Cammie in college, I had convinced myself I wasn’t entirely gay—that maybe I was somewhere in the middle. That I could be bi. And if I was bi, then being with Cammie was right. It was OK.

I never told her. How could I? She wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t want to lose her. I needed her. We had so much in common—music, movies, family. She was my best friend. And so, I convinced myself that we could make it work. And for a while, I did.

But those old urges… they never really went away. I told myself I could handle them, but as the years passed, it only got harder. Sneaking away became second nature. A few hookups here and there, always with men, but I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything. It was just sex, after all. Not with women—so that’s not really cheating, right? Besides, I was being careful. Getting tested regularly to make sure I didn’t pass anything on to Cammie.

But one night, after meeting up with a guy, someone I had seen many times before, he asked me, "Why are you still hiding? You’ve been married 25 years. Isn’t it time to be honest with yourself?" He was right, of course. And that question stuck with me. Twenty-five years. Could I live the rest of my life like this? Could I keep pretending, or would it tear me apart?

The answer came to me slowly, but it came all the same. I couldn’t. So, I told Cammie.

That was the last time I saw her.

After a quarter-century together, realizing I could never give Cammie the complete truth about who I was gnawed at my conscience incessantly. Yet, I compensated by fulfilling her every desire, from the tangible gifts wrapped in glossy paper to the intangible sacrifices that left parts of my soul in shadow. My revelation about my sexuality, though liberating for me, had unlatched a Pandora’s box of retrospective questions about the authenticity of the affections and affirmations I showered upon her.

In the twilight of our shared years, as I began to rewrite my own narrative, I grappled with the guilt of having denied her a truth only I could provide. I gave Cammie whatever she wanted—everything except the genuine person she thought she had married.

The divorce unfolded with a quiet amicability, as I lacked the fortitude to contest or complicate the proceedings—I felt I had inflicted sufficient heartache. In the wake of our separation, Keith severed all communication, the silence between us a stark testament to his pain and disapproval. Alex, on the other hand, maintained a wary distance, interacting with me through a lens of cautious skepticism. My admission and our subsequent divorce had irrevocably altered the landscape of our family, leaving me to navigate the remnants of relationships I once cherished.

Shaken back to reality by a glance at my watch, I realized it was time to pick up Alex for our weekend together. I cherish these moments, fleeting as they may be, and harbor a quiet hope each time—that Keith might offer more than his usual curt exchanges, that his gaze might soften, shedding some of the resentment. Rising from the sofa, I grabbed my keys and headed to the elevator, descending to the solitude of the parking garage. As I drove out, anticipation mixed with a familiar ache; perhaps this weekend would be different with Alex. Maybe he'd let his guard down just a bit more. Navigating to my old home had become an automatic ritual, the route ingrained like a well-trodden path. I barely registered the journey, each turn second nature, as I lost myself in thoughts of potential reconciliation.

I pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. The house looks the same, but it feels different—less like home, more like a place I’m no longer allowed to enter. My hands grip the steering wheel for a moment longer than necessary before I step out, taking in the faded paint and the overgrown shrubs that Cammie used to fuss over.

Keith opens the door before I can knock, standing there with his arms crossed, his body blocking the entrance like a sentry at a gate. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t move aside. Just stares.

"Is Alex home?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

Keith doesn’t answer right away. His jaw clenches, eyes hard. "Yeah, where would he be?" he mutters finally, stepping back just enough for me to see inside. "He’s upstairs."

I hesitate on the threshold, waiting for an invitation that doesn’t come. It’s been years since I’ve stepped foot in this house. A lifetime ago, I would’ve walked right in, maybe even ruffled his hair on the way to the kitchen. Now, it feels like I’m trespassing.

"How’s work? School?" I ask, hoping for some semblance of conversation.

"Fine." His answer is clipped, like a door shutting in my face.

I nod, unsure of what else to say. "Good. That’s… good."

The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. Keith stands there, glaring at me, arms still crossed, his expression unreadable. I can feel the weight of his anger—an unspoken accusation hanging in the air, reminding me of all the things I should have said, should have done.

Keith says flatly. "I’ll get Alex."

Before I can respond, he turns and heads toward the stairs, leaving me standing at the threshold, the door slightly ajar. I can hear his footsteps, heavy and deliberate, fading as he climbs. I want to say something, anything, but the words catch in my throat.

Moments later, Alex appears, backpack slung over one shoulder, along with another bag. He’s got a hesitant smile on his face. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo," I say, forcing a smile of my own. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let’s go."

I glance up the stairs, wondering if Keith is watching. Wondering if this is the closest we’ll ever come to a conversation. I want to ask him if he’ll join us, if maybe we could grab lunch or just talk like we used to, but I know better. I’m not welcome here. Not by him.

As Alex opens the door a little wider, before closing it behind him, I catch a glimpse of Keith leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs. His eyes meet mine for a split second before he turns away.

The distance between Keith and me feels like a wall I’ll never climb.

The first few hours with Alex are always a little tense. Weekends don’t leave much time to bridge the gaps, and starting conversations feels like trying to pick up a book you’ve only read a few pages of—disjointed and incomplete. It’s not easy finding a rhythm when you only see him a couple of days at a time. But, I press on.

“How’s your mom doing?” I ask Alex as we pull out of the parking lot.

“She’s doing OK. You know, the same old stuff,” Alex says.

“Yeah, I know,” I reply, glancing over at him. But I don’t, not really. Cammie only talks to me about Alex, and sometimes about Keith but nothing more. “How about you? How’s school?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“It’s good—acing my math and science classes. I started swimming on the weekends now.”

I smile. “Swimming, huh? Your mom also told me about boxing lessons. What made you think about taking up boxing?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I just thought it could be fun. But I don’t actually get to be in the ring yet—I have to go through all the basics first. You’re gonna take me, right?”

“Of course. I’d like to meet your coach too. Maybe watch you in action.” I pause. “Do you have everything you need? Gloves, gear, anything else?”

“Mom bought me everything. We went out a couple of weekends ago.”

“Oh. Well, if you need anything else, just let me know, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He looks out the window.

The quiet fills the car for several minutes. It’s always like this—conversations with Alex are a little… well, terse. But at least he talks to me now. That’s more than I could have said a few years ago. When Cammie and I first split, he didn’t know what to make of it. It was hard. As he got older, he found out more about what really happened. We’ve come a long way, but I know I’ve still got a lot to make up for.

“Why don’t we go straight for dinner? What are you in the mood for?” I ask Alex

Alex shrugs. “Whatever.”

I chuckle. “I heard about a new burger place that opened up near my place. Want to check it out?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“So, what else is going on?” I press, hoping to get a little more out of him.

“Huh? Oh, not much. School’s good. We had parent-teacher meetings last week. Mom couldn’t come because of work.”

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve come by.”

“Maybe next time,” he says, a bit too casually.

I pause, then take a breath. “So, any girlfriend yet?”

“What? No.” replied Alex.

Maybe that wasn’t the right question to ask. “How about friends?” I try again.

“Yeah, a few,” he says, his voice lightening just a bit. “We hang out after school or on weekends, when I don’t have practice.”

It’s not much, but I’ll take it. Our conversations are still stiff sometimes, but at least Alex is willing to share what’s going on in his life. I’ve learned not to push too hard. We’re getting there, one conversation at a time.

We drove past my apartment building. It’s not much, but it’s in a good part of town—comfortable. Close to work, and more importantly, close to home in case Cammie ever needs something. Not that she does. Not that she’s ever called.

We drive to the burger place in silence. Just as I’m about to pull into the parking lot, I notice Alex tensing up beside me. His eyes dart out the window, focusing on a group of kids hanging out near the entrance—probably his age. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the discomfort written all over his face.

“Dad, um… can we go somewhere else?” His voice is quieter than usual. “I’m not really in the mood for burgers. How about that Chinese place we went to last time?”

I pause, catching the nervous edge in his voice. “Are you sure? We don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he cuts in quickly.

I pull out of the parking lot without another word. I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid the group of kids outside. He’s been through a lot—growing up without me around, and then having to explain to his friends that his parents are divorced. I imagine that’s not an easy conversation to have, and it’s one I’ll never fully understand.

We reach the Chinese restaurant, and I notice Alex scanning the place through the window, checking for familiar faces. When he doesn’t see anyone he knows, his shoulders relax, just a little.

I park the car, and we get out and step inside, the warmth of the restaurant wrapping around us. It’s nothing fancy, but the food’s good. Alex has always liked it here.

We sit down, order our usual, and then the silence falls again. I try to make small talk, but every question feels like a forced attempt to break through the wall between us.

“How’s school?”

“You asked me already. It’s still good,” he says, keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Aaaah, oh. OK. Anything exciting coming up?” I ask, hoping for more than just a few words.

“Not really,” Alex replies.

As our food arrives, Alex puts his phone down long enough to grab his chopsticks and start eating. He picks at his food, but every time his phone buzzes, he sets the chopsticks aside to check the message. Sometimes he replies, other times he just scrolls past.

I glance at him, hoping for more, but he’s focused on the screen, swiping through whatever social media app he’s on. I watch him for a moment, wondering how we got here. How did everything go so wrong? He used to tell me everything—now, it’s like pulling teeth just to get a sentence out of him.

I watch as he stares at the screen, his fingers scrolling mindlessly, picking at his food every now and then. He’s not really paying attention—just going through the motions. I can tell he’s trying to fill the silence between us. I can’t say I blame him; it feels like there’s been more silence than words between us lately.

I ask him about sports, hoping to keep the conversation going, but he doesn’t give much. His answers are short, distant. I can’t help but wonder if I’m trying too hard, or if it’s just that we’re both out of practice. We used to talk more, before everything changed.

I’m not sure how to fix it. He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a wall between us now, one that wasn’t there before. I keep waiting for him to open up, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

I know Cammie always said I should give him space, to be patient. She told me he’s just going through something, that he needs time. But I don’t know how to get past it all. How do I act like nothing happened? How do I make it okay again?

I shift in my seat, trying to think of something—anything—that will keep the conversation going. But it’s hard. Every word feels heavier than the last. I decided I will try again.

“How’s swimming?” I ask, searching for common ground.

“It’s fine,” he says, glancing up briefly, then back down at his phone.

The silence between us stretches out again. We’ve been through this a dozen times before, and it always ends the same way—with me feeling like I’m failing him as a father, and him probably feeling like I’ll never fully understand.

I thought we’d be past this by now. I look at Alex, really look at him for a moment, and see just how much he’s grown. He’s not the kid I used to know, the one who’d come running to me with every little thing. Now, he’s someone I barely recognize.

Maybe I’m the one who changed, I think. Maybe it’s all on me.

We eat in relative silence. The only sounds are the clink of chopsticks and the low hum of the restaurant around us. I want to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between us, but the words feel stuck in my throat.

It’s not that Alex doesn’t want to talk—it’s that neither of us knows how to anymore. And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

As we’re driving back from dinner, the silence stretches between us. Alex hasn’t said much, but I can tell he’s deep in thought. He stares out the window, eyes tracking the blur of streetlights and passing cars. I want to say something to break the quiet, but I don’t know where to begin.

Finally, Alex clears his throat, his voice steady but low.

“I don’t really know what to say, Dad. I’ve been thinking about all this for a while, but every time I try to figure out what to ask, I just… don’t know where to start.”

I glance over at him, surprised by his honesty. It’s not like Alex to open up like this. Keeping my eyes on the road, I try to keep my voice calm.“You can ask me anything, Alex. I mean that.”

He shifts slightly, like he’s weighing his words. “I guess… I don’t understand why now. Why did you wait so long to come out? You had us, you had Mom… wasn’t that enough?”

The question hangs in the air, and I feel it like a punch to the chest. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, trying to find the right words.

“It’s not that simple. For a long time, I thought I could be someone I wasn’t. I convinced myself that if I just kept things together, everything would be fine. For a while, it felt like it was.”

His brow furrows, and he turns slightly to look at me. “But you always knew, right? You knew even when we were little?”

He’s not accusing me; he just wants to understand. I nod, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve known since I was your age. Maybe younger. But back then, I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought… I thought I could bury it, hide it. For a long time, I managed to. When I met your mom, I fell in love with her, and for a while, it felt right. When Keith was born, and then you—you three were the most important things in my life. I didn’t want to risk losing that, so I kept hiding.”

Alex doesn’t respond right away, his eyes focused on the road ahead. I can almost see the questions turning over in his mind. Finally, he speaks, his voice low but pointed.

“You mean, you kept lying.”

The words hit hard. But he’s right. I may call it hiding, but it was lying—lying to Cammie, to Keith, to Alex. And worst of all, to myself.

There’s no anger in his voice, just confusion. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a hundred times.“I thought I could be the man everyone needed me to be, but I was wrong. I was hiding from myself, and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But the longer I stayed, the harder it got to keep things together.”

He looks out the window again, his fingers drumming softly against his leg. “I guess… I don’t know how to feel about all of it. One day, we had a family, and then it was just… gone. It’s still hard to understand.”

The ache in my chest grows as I listen. He’s not angry, but I can see the weight of everything on his shoulders.

“I know it’s confusing, Alex. I know it doesn’t make sense right now, and I don’t expect it to. But I want you to know that I’m still here. I’m still your dad, and I always will be.”

He nods, but he’s still quiet. His voice softens as he speaks again. “I’m trying, Dad. I am. I just… it’s going to take a while for me to figure this out.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels like a turning point. The tension in the car feels lighter, and for the first time in a long while, we’re both on the same page—even if we’re still figuring it out.

As we pull up to my apartment building, I drive into the parkade, park the car and turn to him.

“Alex, I know I’ve messed up a lot. But I’m really proud of you. And I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got all the time we need, okay?”

He looks at me for a moment, the uncertainty still there, but so is something else—a flicker of hope, maybe. “Okay, Dad. Thanks.”

We both get out of the car. Alex grabs his bags, and we head toward the elevator. As the doors close, we ride up to my floor in silence, but it feels different now—lighter. Things aren’t perfect, but they’re better. For the first time in a long time, I feel like we’re finally making progress, moving forward.

Once we’re inside the apartment, I set down my keys and toss my coat on the chair, while Alex drops his bags near the door. It’s a familiar routine, but tonight it feels... easier. After a few minutes of quiet, we both settle onto the couch and turn on the TV, a show we both pretend to care about but mostly use as background noise. I keep stealing glances at Alex, trying to gauge his mood, wondering if this time would be different. After a while, I try again, easing into a conversation about school and his friends.

“How’s school going?” I asked. “You’ve been quiet about it.”

To my surprise, he actually put down his phone, letting it rest on the arm of the couch. At first, his responses were short—one-word answers, a shrug here, a nod there. But then, as if something shifted, he leaned back, his posture relaxing a little.

“It’s fine,” he said, his tone cautious. “Math and science are good. I’m acing both of them.”

I couldn’t help but smile, a small burst of pride warming my chest. “That’s awesome, Alex. But why do I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

He hesitated, fiddling with the edge of a pillow. “I mean, math is fine, but Mr. Wallace is such a hard-ass. He gives out these impossible assignments and doesn’t explain half the stuff.”

“But you’re still acing it?” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re doing fine, even if he’s tough.”

Alex shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, but it’s still annoying. Like, I get it, but some of the other kids don’t, and it’s just… frustrating to watch, you know?”

“Helping anyone out?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

He glanced at me sideways, almost suspiciously, before shrugging again. “Sometimes. When they ask.”

“Good,” I said. “You’ve got the skills to help, and that’s a big deal. Math and science aren’t easy for everyone.”

He didn’t say anything, but his expression softened, and I could tell he wasn’t as tense anymore. Encouraged, I shifted the topic.

“What about your friends? How’s everyone doing?”

He hesitated again, fiddling with the pillow. “They’re fine. But, uh, Keith—uh, not my brother, the guy in my class—has been kind of weird lately.”

“Weird how?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I think he’s jealous or something. Like, I got picked for this science competition, and he didn’t. It’s stupid.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Stuff like that can feel pretty big.”

Alex’s lips pressed together, and he glanced down, his voice quiet. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I think it’s awesome that you got picked, though,” I said. “You’ve been working hard, and it’s paying off.”

He looked up, his expression softening further. “Thanks.”

“What’s the science competition all about?” I ask.

Alex begins to share all the details about the competition, trying to play it cool, but the excitement in his voice is hard to miss.

“Wow, that does sound exciting. When you’re presenting, let me know, okay? I’d love to come and see it,” I say, a genuine smile forming on my face.

“Sure, Dad. I’ll let you know,” Alex replies, his voice brightening a bit.

For the first time in a while, the silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward. It felt… comfortable. Later, as the TV droned on, Alex leaned back against the couch, his head resting on the cushion. His phone buzzed on the armrest, but he ignored it, too focused on the screen. I didn’t say anything, just watched him out of the corner of my eye, marveling at how these small moments felt like victories.

Eventually, we both called it a night, the quiet of the house settling around us. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and I wanted to make the most of the time that I have with Alex.

The next day turned out to be busier than expected. Alex had swimming practice, which took up several hours, but he seemed more energized than ever. After practice, he couldn’t stop talking about how much he enjoyed it, and I even got a chance to meet his swimming coach. The coach was impressed with Alex’s progress and mentioned he could potentially earn a scholarship if he kept it up. Hearing that filled me with pride, though I knew a lot of the credit went to Cammie. She’s always been on top of things when it comes to the boys.

I do miss her sometimes, even if we’re worlds apart now.

After practice, we grabbed a quick snack before heading to the movie theater to watch the action film Alex had been looking forward to for weeks. Of course, no movie outing is complete without junk food, and I let him go all out—popcorn, candy, soda, the works. I knew Cammie wouldn’t approve, and part of me felt like I should do better, but today wasn’t about rules. Today, Alex was smiling. He was talking to me—really talking—starting conversations, telling me about school, his friends, and even opening up about how his classes were going.

It felt like a long time since I’d seen him this happy. The difference from the other day was like night and day, and I soaked it all in.

We spent the rest of the day together, and Alex even asked if we could go shopping for new clothes. Usually, Cammie handled all of that, but Alex is getting older now. I hoped she wouldn’t mind the things he picked out, but part of me was just glad that he wanted to spend time with me, doing something as simple as shopping.

To my surprise, by the end of the day, Alex suggested we grab dinner at the burger place—the same one he had avoided yesterday. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but I wasn’t going to question it. If he was comfortable, I was more than happy to oblige.

As we parked and walked toward the entrance, I noticed Alex scanning the parking lot and peeking through the windows. His eyes darted from table to table inside, lingering just a second longer whenever a group of kids his age came into view.

“Everything okay?” I asked casually.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, not meeting my gaze. “Just checking.”

I let it slide, not wanting to make a big deal of it. I understood what he was doing. If he wanted to make sure no one he knew was here, I wasn’t going to question it. This was his comfort zone, and I didn’t want to do anything to disturb it.

Once inside, we got in line and placed our orders. Alex chose a double cheeseburger, no onions, and a mountain of fries—and I stuck to my grilled chicken wrap, much to his disapproval.

“Seriously, Dad? A wrap at a burger joint?” he teased as we sat down with our meals.

“Hey, I’ve got to balance it out somehow. You’ll understand one day when metabolism decides to abandon you,” I replied with a smirk. I might have been in my 50s but have always taken good care of myself, I could probably pass for someone in their early to mid 40s.

Alex rolled his eyes but grinned, and for the first time in a while, the tension between us felt like it had evaporated.

“Swimming was good,” he said suddenly, his voice more relaxed now. “I think I’m getting better.”

“That’s awesome, Alex. You’ve been putting in the work, so it’s paying off, your coach is impressed with your effort. He said you could get a scholarship.” I said, leaning forward. “What’s your favorite part?”

“Probably the relays. It’s cool to be part of a team, you know? And it pushes me to go faster.”

I nodded, smiling. “Team sports can do that. It’s great you’ve found something you enjoy. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. He twirled the straw wrapper between his fingers for a moment, then hesitated before speaking again. “Hey, Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I said, leaning back, ready for whatever he had on his mind.

He shifted in his seat, glancing around briefly before looking back at me. “There’s this… girl. She’s in some of my classes.”

“Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow, my interest piqued. “What about her?”

“Well…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kind of… like her. But I don’t know how to talk to her. I mean, I want to, but… what if she doesn’t feel the same way? Or what if I mess it up?”

I smiled, keeping my tone light to put him at ease. “That’s normal, Alex. Everyone feels that way when they like someone. The trick is just being yourself. Talk to her like you would anyone else. Don’t try too hard to impress her—just be honest and kind.”

Alex studied me for a moment, his brow furrowing. “But… I don’t know if you’d get it. I mean, you’re gay, so…”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound surprising both of us. “Alex, liking someone is the same no matter who you’re attracted to. Trust me, I’ve had my share of awkward moments trying to talk to people I liked.”

He cracked a small smile, his nerves softening a bit. “So, what should I say?”

“Well,” I said, leaning forward, “start small. Compliment her on something—not just her looks, though. Maybe something about her work in class or something she’s good at. Show you’ve noticed her in a meaningful way. And if the moment feels right, ask if she wants to eat lunch together or study together.”

“Compliment her on something other than her looks,” Alex repeated thoughtfully. “Okay. I think I can do that.”

“Good,” I said, grinning. “You’ve got this, Alex. Just remember—confidence doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you go for it even though you’re scared.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime,” I said, feeling a swell of pride. Watching him grow into himself, even in small moments like this, made everything worth it.

We finished the rest of our meal, the conversation flowing easily—chatting about everything and nothing all at once. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like we were trying too hard. There was no awkward tension, no guarded silences. It just felt… natural. Like we were finally on the same wavelength.

As we walked out of the burger place, I couldn’t help but smile. This weekend, it felt like Alex and I really connected—like the gap that sometimes felt so wide had narrowed, even if just a little.

The drive back home was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. Alex sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, his phone untouched in his lap. The burger place had been a good call—it felt like a win for the day—but something told me Alex still had more on his mind.

As we stopped at a red light, I glanced over at him. His brow was furrowed, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. Whatever he was thinking, it was clearly tying him up in knots.

“You okay, Alex?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” He looked up, startled, as if I’d pulled him out of a deep thought. “Oh, yeah. Just tired.”

I nodded, not pushing it. But as I turned my eyes back to the road, I could feel his hesitance, the way he kept glancing my way, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite figure out how to start.

As I glanced over at Alex, I could see his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite read. He was quiet, staring out the window, his hands fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket like he always did when he was lost in thought.

We had talked during dinner—nothing groundbreaking, just the usual, but there was something in the air. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it felt like there was more he wanted to say. Maybe he was thinking about what I said—about talking to her, about being himself. I could tell it wasn’t as easy as I made it sound.

Tomorrow is the last day I get to spend with Alex before he heads back to Cammie’s, but it’s also his first boxing lesson, and I’m glad I’ll be there for that. He won’t be stepping into the ring just yet—tomorrow’s all about learning the basics. Technique, safety, and some fundamental punches on the bag, with his trainer guiding him through it.

I’m excited to see him start something new, and I’m looking forward to meeting the trainer who’ll be working with him. It feels like we’ve turned a corner this weekend—like we’ve finally started rebuilding something that’s been missing for so long.