The Return of the Ghost

I was in the middle of checking a patient's vital signs when I heard it: voices rising in the hallway, an unmistakable buzz of activity. My heart stuttered in my chest. I couldn't help but think that someone or something was about to enter through the door.

Then he did.

Maxwell Sterling, a man I thought I had forgotten, waited at the entrance. Tall, commanding, the sort of presence that could halt a room in its tracks. His brown hair was a little unkempt, as though today he had not cared about perfection. His piercing blue eyes fixed on mine, and for a brief instant, time itself appeared to stop.

His gaze remained steady as he took a hesitant step forward, his tailored suit barely making a sound on the hospital floor. I could not look away or breathe. The years between us vanished as though we were back at that time. But no, I wasn't prepared for this. Not now, not in this manner.

My pulse raced in my ears, my feet unexpectedly anchored to the location, my body trapped in the exact position it had been the day I left him. That was so long ago, yet here he was, standing before me like a ghost from my past.

"Maxwell," I gasped, the name falling from my mouth before I could prevent it.

He did not smile. His jaw tightened and a muscle in his cheek twitched. He understood how seeing him again would affect me. But what was I meant to do? Run away? Confront him?

My voice a tight whisper, I hardly noted the next words I spoke. What... what brings you here?

His eyes were fixed and the air seems to thicken with every stride he took toward me. The years between us seemed to have never happened. As if all the times I had spent running from him, hiding from the love and the suffering, meant nothing. The flood of recollections struck me like a wave crashing onto the coast.

There we were again. As one. But this time, the shadows loomed larger than previously.

"Is this your way of making an entrance?" Trying to seem more collected than I actually was, I spoke, but my words stumbled.

Maxwell paused before me, his breath calm and his gaze softening just a bit. Sophia, I'm not here for the conference. Though low and controlled, his voice was intense. I am here for you.

The words, the weight of them, crashed into me like a tidal wave. "I... I don't get it." I believed...

He stepped closer, his breath grazing my cheek. Though he wasn't touching me, I could sense his warmth. Sophia, you believed what? Now his voice was quieter and tinged with irritation. "That I wouldn't pursue you?" That I would let you slip away once more?

Panic increasing, my heart raced. Not at all. This was not meant to occur. He was not meant to locate me. Not after all. But there he was, uninvited, wanting responses.

I mumbled, more to myself than to him, "I didn't want you to find me, Maxwell." I believed I was safeguarding us both.

"Guarding us?" He scoffed, but it had a clear edge. You ran, Sophia. You abandoned me. You abandoned him.

The mention of "him" made my chest clench at the idea of Marcus, the son I kept concealed from Maxwell, and sent a jolt through my system. "I did it for him," I answered, my voice shaking now. "To protect him from all of this."

Maxwell did not answer right away. Instead, he remained there, his eyes combing my face as though looking for the lady he once knew. I experienced it, that dense, weighty quiet full with whispered facts. It was the same silence I had been drowning in for years, the same silence I had believed I had escaped when I left New York. But here he was, breaking all my meticulously built walls.

I said, nearly to myself, "I never thought I'd see you again." The air between us was now electrified, tense with all we had been too terrified to face, and my breath seized in my throat.

Maxwell moved closer, so near I could smell his woodsy, comforting, homey perfume. My body let me down in a manner it hadn't in years, and my heart skipped a beat.

Now, nearly softly, his voice was quieter. Sophia, you ought to have known better. You can't keep fleeing from me.

I gulped. This caught me off guard. I had not planned for this time. Maxwell was always so confident, so sure of everything. But now, facing me, I noticed the fissures under his confidence.

The words almost slipped from my lips as I said, "I didn't know what else to do." You don't get it. It wasn't only about us. It was about him.

For a brief period, the flare of emotion in his eyes softened. The hardness came back. You believe I didn't want to be in his life? Frustration running through every word, Maxwell's voice was tight. You believe I would have abandoned him? On you?

The weight of his words falling down made me close my eyes. Maxwell, I said softly, "I never wanted to hurt you." "But you have to realize... I was terrified."

The ensuing quiet was stifling. Maxwell stood before me, looking for solutions on my face that I doubted I could provide. I could sense the tension in the air, the past and present crashing together in an unanticipated way.

But by then it was too late to flee.

Maxwell spoke gently, "I'm not leaving, Sophia," his words loaded with promise. "You are not either."

Charged with all we hadn't said, all we had tried to forget, the air in the room crackled between us. Maxwell's presence was as disturbing as a storm on the horizon; his piercing stare never left mine. The memories poured back, hitting into me with unyielding fury, and I could feel the weight of him closing in.

I heard it, then, just as Maxwell's deep, strong voice moved a step closer as if to ask more. The patter of tiny feet.

Mother!

Marcus rushed into the room, his huge eyes brimming with the innocence only a three-year-old could possess. He stopped at the entrance, Maxwell's view freezing him. His small frame stiffened, eyes wide as he gazed up at this unknown person.

Maxwell's look changed; his jaw tightened and his eyes darted between me and Marcus. His eyes grew darker. Is that... my kid? Though just above a whisper, his voice conveyed the intensity of what he had been suppressing.

Caught between two worlds, the one I had created for Marcus and the one that had never truly let me go, all I could do for a time was stand there.

Mother? Marcus inquired once more, his small voice uncertain, his gaze darting anxiously from me to Maxwell and back to me. He was clueless. He was unable to.

Maxwell's gaze pierced me; his bewilderment and something deeper, nameless, danced across his eyes. My heart raced. The barricades I had constructed, the lies I had lived behind, suddenly seemed so fragile. So weak.

Indeed, Marcus. Though my voice shook, I pushed the words out; the lie lay heavily on my chest. Your father is that.

Maxwell's breath was short as he absorbed the reality; he remained silent and motionless for what seemed like eternity. His eyes never left Marcus; a combination of astonishment and something else, something unidentifiable, danced behind them.

He gulped down. Sophia, is he mine? Raw and frantic, his voice shattered the stillness.

Though I could hardly breathe, I knew the truth hung in the air between us. Now it was too late to conceal.

Still unclear about the image developing in front of him, Marcus moved his weight from one foot to the other. As if trying to solve the mystery that was his father, he kept looking at Maxwell, his interest increasing with every second.

Though his actions were cautious, Maxwell stepped nearer, his enormous frame towering above Marcus. "Hey, buddy," he murmured softly. "I... I am your father."

Coming from him, the words seemed somewhat odd. As if he hadn't personally believed them. But as he knelt before Marcus, his expression softened, if only for a moment.

Still unsure, Marcus blinked at him, his little face wrinkling in perplexity. "Daddy?" he inquired, his voice brimming with uncertainty.

The term made me wince uncontrollably. It was excessive. Too quick. Not like this, not after all the years of keeping Marcus from him. I had never thought Maxwell would be here like this.

Maxwell's eyes grew more soft; when he extended his enormous hand hovering near Marcus's shoulder, some form of agony flashed over them. But almost as fast, he yanked it back, as though touching his son was too much.

"Yeah," he answered softly, gazing at me with the same sharp gaze that once caused me to lose myself. Your father is me.

Watching the event play out made my heart ache. Maxwell has never been a guy to display weakness. He had always been the one in charge, the one who made decisions. But suddenly, here he was, kneeling before a child he didn't know, and I could see the gravity of it all, the magnitude of his loss. What we had all lost.

Tugging at my sleeve, Marcus murmured, "Momma," He gazed up at me, his eyes looking for comfort.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, I bent down to his level. Softly, my voice like a whisper, I replied, "It's alright, baby." "He's... he's your dad."

The words seemed strange, as though I were not the one meant to utter them. Now I had no option. Maxwell was here, and everything I had spent years safeguarding was sliding through my fingertips.

Maxwell rose to his feet, above me. His eyes' pain was unfiltered, genuine. Sofia, is he mine? His remarks struck me like a gut punch.

I met his stare, my throat constricted and my head whirling. "Yes," I said quietly, too speechless to add more.

Pale-faced, Maxwell retreated. Then why didn't you inform me? Though he attempted to calm himself, his voice broke. "Why didn't you let me be involved in his life?"

I could not respond to him. I had no idea how to help him grasp. Reaching for Marcus, my hands shook as I drew him into my arms, attempting to protect him from the tempest forming between us.

Maxwell's gaze moved from Marcus to me, his annoyance mounting. Sofia, I'm not going to leave him. Not once again.

The words hung in the air, heavy with unfulfilled need and wrath, and I knew then that things were about to change, whether I was ready for it or not.