5. No excuse for forgetting

The hum of the centrifuge faded into the background as I sent the data file on my laptop. The numbers blurred slightly, but I kept my eyes glued to the screen. 

It was easier to focus on the test results than the tightness in my chest that had been lingering all morning.

But I couldn’t ignore it forever.

I glanced at my phone, face down next to the pipette rack. I hadn’t checked it since lunch, and for good reason.

Still, I flipped it over.

3 missed calls – Mum

My stomach twisted. I tapped the screen, scrolling the message waiting with the missed calls.

"You’re avoiding me. Don’t forget what today is."

I didn’t need the reminder. I knew exactly what today was. How could I forget?

Four years.

“You were supposed to pick his call.”

I closed the message, locking the screen before the memory could drag me under.

Eva’s voice broke through the fog.

“Hey, we are going to the kitchen for a coffee break. You want to join?” She lingered at the bench next to mine.

I forced a smile. “I’ll catch up later. I just want to finish this.”

Eva nodded but hesitated. She didn’t need to say anything—her eyes already asked if I was okay.

“I’m fine,” I added quickly, giving her a wink, “enjoy the break.”

She left with a lingering glance over her shoulder, and I waited until the lab door closed behind her.

My phone buzzed again.

I swiped to answer, slipping out of the lab and into the corridor.

“Maggie.”

Her voice, sharp and precise as always. No greeting. No warmth. Just the usual weight that hung between us like a shadow.

“Mum.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. “I’m at work.”

“You ignored my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

A sigh crackled through the speaker. “There’s no excuse for forgetting. It’s your brother’s anniversary today.”

I closed my eyes, already feeling the tightness behind them. I hadn’t forgotten. I never did.

“I know,” I said softly.

“You say that, but you never visit. Not once in four years.”

I pressed my palm against the cool wall, grounding myself. “I don’t think it would help either of us.”

She didn’t respond right away. When she did, the softness was gone.

“You should have answered his call.”

The night before he died. His name lit up my phone screen.

I almost answered. Almost.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

“Your father hasn’t called either,” she added bitterly. “I don’t know why I thought either of you would care.”

"So what about me then?" I could feel there was something was coming out from my chest. Heat.

"What?"

"Did you both ever care about me?" For the first time, I pushed her back. I tired not to scream, "Excepting for calling for more money and talking shit about my father, what else did you do for me?"

Dad hadn’t cared when we were children, and he certainly didn’t care now.

But that didn’t stop her from throwing us in the same sinking boat.

“Stop trying to transfer the topic!" She said loudly, loud enough to wake up the dead, "You know he moved on,” she continued, voice colder now. “Remarried, younger woman. Not that you ever bothered to ask.”

I kept my gaze on the floor, staring at the tiles as if they could pull me into them. “What do you want me to say, then?”

“I want you to stop pretending this isn’t your fault.”

There it was. The dagger she didn’t even bother to sugarcoat anymore.

I swallowed, forcing the lump down. “I have to get back to work.”

“No surprise there. Work’s the only thing that matters to you now, isn’t it?”

I disconnected the call.

By the time I returned to the lab, my chest felt hollow.

I slipped back into the room quietly, but Liam noticed the shift immediately.

“Everything good?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

He didn’t push, but his eyes staying on me longer than usual before he returned to his workstation.

I tried to focus, but the weight of the call pressed against the back of my mind. The pipette felt heavier in my hand, the reagents dull against the bright lights.

When Daniel’s voice called me to his office ten minutes later, I almost welcomed the distraction.

Almost.

The moment I stepped into his office, the tension from the call hadn’t fully left me.

So when Daniel laid the report down in front of me by his laptop screen, the marked-up sections glaring like red flags, I barely heard the first part of his sentence.

“…found a few typos in your lab report.”

“Maggie.”

Her voice, sharp and precise as always. No greeting. No warmth. Just the usual weight that hung between us like a shadow.

“Mum.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. “I’m at work.”

“You ignored my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

A sigh crackled through the speaker. “There’s no excuse for forgetting. It’s your brother’s anniversary today.”

I closed my eyes, already feeling the tightness behind them. I hadn’t forgotten. I never did.

“I know,” I said softly.

“You say that, but you never visit. Not once in four years.”

I pressed my palm against the cool wall, grounding myself. “I don’t think it would help either of us.”

Silence.

Maybe she would let it go this time.

But she didn’t.

“You should have answered his call.”

The night before he died. His name lit up my phone screen.

I almost answered. Almost.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

“Your father hasn’t called either,” she added bitterly. “I don’t know why I thought either of you would care.”

The heat rose in my chest before I could stop it.

“What about me, then?”

Her sharp exhale crackled through the phone. “What?”

“Did either of you ever care about me?” The words came out too fast. Too loud. “Besides calling for money or dragging me into Dad’s mess, what have you done for me?”

The silence that followed was thicker than the accusation itself.

I hadn’t meant to say it. But the heat refused to fade.

“Stop trying to transfer the topic!” she snapped, louder than before. “This is about him. And you. And the fact that you let it happen.”

I swallowed hard. “I have to get back to work.”

“Of course you do.”

I ended the call before she could say more.

By the time I returned to the lab, my chest felt hollow.

I slipped back into the room quietly, but Liam noticed the shift immediately.

“Everything good?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just family stuff.”

He didn’t push, but his eyes stayed longer on me than usual before he returned to his bench.

I tried to focus, but the weight of the call pressed against the back of my mind. The pipette felt heavier in my hand, the reagents dull against the bright lights.

When Daniel’s message telling me to go and find him ten minutes later, I almost welcomed the distraction.

Almost.