MasukALEXANDER’S POV
My phone rings continuously. Who the hell would call me by this time? I doubt if it is work calls because I made it an announcement: "No calls at 10 pm." I stretch my hands to the bedside drawer, the thick grey duvet falls off, exposing my hairy chest and briefs as I shuffle my fingers in search of my phone. "Oh, Stephan." I grunt. Maybe he's around. I dial his number, hoping he does not take his call. "Man, this is past 10 pm." I say as soon as I hear his voice over the phone. "Yeah, I know. I'm at your place." "Are you mad at your bed? Do you ever sleep?" "I do. Not just as early as you do." He chuckles. "Oh, heavens!" "I'm downstairs. Either you meet me here or I come in there." I throw the phone alongside my body, yawning. I am extremely tired. Not because of today’s endless supervision. I am exhausted because of the situation I find myself in. I drift off to sleep only to hear series of banging on my door, each bang getting louder. Enraged, I get up from the bed, heave a sigh as if to call down the spirits of peace. I twist the lock and open the door slowly. "Alex, I've been knocking." "Knocking or banging?" "They sound alike, yeah?" He teases, slapping my shoulder in a friendly manner. I sigh in frustration and usher him in. We sit in the fairly large cozy parlor—a part of my bedroom. "I thought to check up on you, man." "Thanks," I acknowledge, "You look like you would be bursting into a club." I take to note his outfit. His vintage shirt and pants, trimmed hair and shiny gold wristwatch. "If that's where you want to be, let's head there," He smiles. "Nah," I object. Stephan is the closest to a brother. We've been through a lot together and the universe knows it. Our friendship has passed through the tunnels of disagreements, fun, business, and a lot words could not place together. "Why? A lot of ladies would be waiting for a dashing fella as you!" "I'm not in my fun elements." I stretch my bare-footed legs. "Man, are you for real?" I keep mute. My eyes are glued to the aquarium. He brushes my arm, "What's happening?" "Stephan, you would find it hard to believe." "Come on. Nothing is new. Talk to me, man." "My grandparents took the 'Alex, settle down' to another level." He tilts his head, "Found you a wife?” "That would have been much easier to slip through." My fingers swimming over my head. I tell him every single detail of Grandparents' resolve; from Sophia, the sperm thief to the unknown surrogate. "My legacy can be passed on without unnecessary measures as this. It is too risky. It is not what I want for myself." "This really, is a lot. I understand how difficult this is for you," He pats my back, "but take a look at it from their viewpoint." "Their viewpoint is archaic, you know. I am not ready for fatherhood. Worse, I do not know the woman." "I would be real with you. You need to settle down, have children, live happy…" "Who says I am not happy?" I retort. "Hey, hey. I never said that. I can understand your love life being a mess and your unavailability to any romantic relationship. I also support their decision in making you a father." I hit the table and grab some water from the dispenser, "You support my Grandparents' ancient thoughts? I thought you know me better." "Chill." "Of course, I am chill." I gulp down a glass of water. "You know what? Let's get some air." After a quick wardrobe search, I throw on a silk sleeve and a pair of loose pants "You look just like it." In few minutes, we hit the road. The streets are perfectly lit with street lights and neon signs hanging over the marts lined up in rows besides the smooth lane. "Where are we heading to?" "Anywhere with air and comfort." I inhale the fresh smell of the wind as Stephan speeds up against the rushing current. The car steadies to a slow stop as we approach a small pub. "What's this place? I never knew it existed." The car comes to a halt in front of the pub. "You'd love it here, Alex." Stephan assures me as we alight. The entrance is quite tiny. We go in through the small glass door. The neon sign above exudes green, blue and red lights at intervals. It reads: "Sweet Pub". I wonder how much sweet memories I've made in chains of clubs and I haven't seen this one. "Quite nice." I spread my lips in a U-shape. He shuts the door behind him, "Built in an ancient way. And that is my reason for being here." "Makes me feel like a cowboy." I grimace. Stephan let out a little contagious laughter, I can't help but chuckle. The lights are quite dim, our shoes make creaking sounds against the floorboard. The pub exudes an aura of solitude with few people spread across the glass tables, clinking of mugs and the murmur of hushed conversations as we walk to an unoccupied table. A waitress, her apron stained with the countless spills of beer move towards our table with a bent smile. "What'll it be, gents?" she inquired, her voice as warm as the air. "A bottle of your finest wine, if you please," Stephan requests, his tone carrying a hint of melancholy. The waitress nods and retreats, returning moments later with a dusty bottle and two chipped glasses. She deftly uncorks the bottle, filling each glass with a deep, crimson liquid that sparkled like captured starlight. As the waitress leaves, my fingers trace the rim of the glass, my eyes set on the rich red liquid. I feel Stephan's gaze. "If you have something to say, say it." "Alexander," he begin, his voice low and steady, "give this surrogacy a chance. Accept your good fate." I lower my glass. "Man," I reply, "I never wanted this." "You do not know the surrogate. All that is your concern is the outcome of it," He waves his hand, "Your grandparents are wise fellas. It makes it easier for you." "If I should take such step, I need to know her," I tap my fingers on the table, making agitating sounds. "You don't have to love anyone just yet, you need heirs." "Hmm…" I nod my head. "I'm here as the friend I have always been, as the brother I would forever be," He sips from his glass, "Make this work. You'll be grateful soon." I stare at him, mute, thinking about his words. Hitting my fist on the table, "I must meet with her, if I accept this." "Like your grandparents arranged, you really don't need to." He pats my shoulder. I keep shut, knowing that no one disputes my will even if I had just bent over to satisfy my grandparents ' desire. I must get to know her.EMMA’S POVI draw the curtain open and let the morning lights seep into the room.The neighborhood is called Willowmere—a place that sounds like it belongs to a postcard or a childhood book, and that feels intentional enough to be safe. It sits far from everything I used to know, far from the usual streets and names that echo too loudly. Outside my window, life is happening quietly. A grey-haired man walks his dog with unhurried patience, a petite woman waters potted plants on her balcony. Two teenagers stroll past, laughing softly, their backpacks hanging loose like the world is yet to be against them.The air smells like toast, damp earth and faint floral tinges. It feels more like home than home— where I left.I rest my forehead briefly against the glass as I admire what everyday life looks like when it isn’t shattered.I sigh and turn back into the apartment.It is larger than I expected when I signed the lease: wide, open and thoughtful. Everything is already in place, as though
EMMA’S POVThe days after my mother’s death has nothing to do with the drama of excessive wailing and some thick cover of endless tears. The days after my mother’s death arrive empty; like water through a cracked cup— quiet, leaking, gone before I can hold them. Morning becomes afternoon without ceremony. Night comes without relief. People return to their routines with an efficiency that feels like betrayal. Laughter resumes. Traffic hums. Phones ring. Life continues, like my mother had no experience of death.Everyone goes back to normal. Everyone except me.I stop answering Alexander’s calls on the second day. By the third, I stop reading the messages. By the fifth, I turn my phone off entirely. And I don’t see this as a punishment but as a way of surviving. Every time his name lights up my screen, my insides tighten like a fist around glass.I cannot afford to bleed anymore, so, I disappear from him.The flower shop smells the same— earthy, green, and faintly sweet. It’s strange h
EMMA’S POVThe living room smells like stale grief and untouched food.I am on the floor, my back against the couch, my knees drawn to my chest. My sobs come in waves that knock the air out of me and leave me gasping, embarrassed by my own survival. I clutch the fabric of my gown like it might anchor me to something solid, but everything inside me feels scraped raw.Mum is gone.Every time I think I have grasped the words, ‘Mum is gone’, they slip through me again, leaving another ache behind.My chest burns, my throat is sore and my eyes feel swollen shut, yet the tears keep coming, without a hold.I rock slightly, whispering words. If only. I should have. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to.The door to the kitchen creaks open.Hilda appears in front of me holding a plate—cereal, I think, and milk. The smell makes my stomach tighten unpleasantly.“Emma,” she says softly, kneeling beside me. “Please. Try to eat something.”My gaze is fixed on the wall across the room, on a faint crack th
ALEXANDER’S POVI sniff in the smell of the waiting room, the smell of burnt coffee and disinfectant.It’s a smell I have learned to associate with things going wrong slowly, then all at once.Emma sits rigid on one of the plastic chairs, her arms folded tightly across her chest and her eyes fixed on the floor as though she’s afraid of looking up. Hilda is beside her, with her fingers wrapped around her phone, opening and closing it without purpose.I stand for a moment, watching them.I don’t know where to put myself as every place feels intrusive.“I’ll be back,” I say finally. “I’ll get you something. Tea. Snacks. Milkshakes. Anything.”Emma doesn’t look up.Hilda nods weakly. “Thank you.”I leave before Emma can stop me with one of those dagger stares.The hospital cafeteria is almost empty. A bright television in one corner and a tired attendant behind the counter. I order tea, milkshakes, water— too much of everything, as if abundance can fight loss.By the time I return, Hilda
ALEXANDER’S POVThe corridor feels unbearably still after Emma retreats into the ward. My creased shirt and rough look has nothing on me as the storm has settled. I should be satisfied. My family’s meddling hands will not harm her again. I should be. But I don’t find even a tinge of satisfaction.My phone vibrates sharply against my chest.It’s my grandmother.I swipe the call to speaker, almost throwing the phone across the hall in irritation.“Alexander,” her sharp voice slices through the silence. “Why haven’t you answered sooner?”“I was busy,” I say flatly.“Busy?” She lets out a slow and amused laughter. “Busy? Alexander, you’re supposed to be attending to family. You know very well what’s at stake. Tell me, what exactly is going on with Emma’s mother? I’ve been waiting for updates only you can give.”“Oh… you know don’t you?” My brows crease in disgust.“Go straight to the point.”“She’s being treated,” I say.“Being treated?” Her tone sharpens. “Alexander, you must understand.
EMMA’S POVThe clock on the wall says only twelve minutes have passed since the nurse whispered stand down like it was a prayer she had learned too late, but it feels like an hour has died on my chest.Mum’s breathing grows shallow, then uneven. Her chest rises like it’s climbing a hill it didn’t agree to climb. I sit close, my fingers wrapped around hers. She’s been unable to drink the herbal tea except for two sips.Hilda hovers at the foot of the bed, her eyes glassy, her mouth moving in silent pleas to a God she hasn’t been on speaking terms with in years.“Mum,” I whisper. “Stay with me.”Her eyelids flutter, then settle. Her grip tightens faintly, as if she hears me but doesn’t have the strength to answer.As I watch her, it feels like there’s an internal break, like a bone cracking under skin. I step out of the ward again, holding back my tears.The corridor feels colder now. Somewhere down the hall, a child cries.I walk to the nurses’ station with a steadiness that surprises







