No Regret

I: Is everything alright?

Brett 

"Excuse me? Can I sit here? The other seats are taken." A gentle voice asked, pulling me from the trance of my laptop screen. I looked up to find a weary-eyed stranger standing before me in the bustling cafe. His honey-brown eyes met mine, carrying a blend of fatigue and hope, and his tousled hair spoke of a day as long as mine. It was nearing 9 pm, the cafe alive with the hum of conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

"Um... Can I?" He asked again, uncertainty lacing his words as he held a stack of papers in his hands. I realized I had been staring and quickly straightened myself.

"Oh, yeah, sure," I replied, hastily shifting my laptop to make space for him at the small table. His expression softened with gratitude as he settled into the chair across from me, arranging his papers with a quiet shuffle.

"Thanks," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of the day's endeavors. The cafe buzzed around us, a cacophony of voices mingling with the clinking of cups and saucers.

Returning my gaze to the screen of my laptop, I found myself lost in the rhythm of typing, the soft murmur of the cafe providing a backdrop to my thoughts. The silence between us was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional burst of laughter or the hiss of the espresso machine.

Just as I delved deep into my work, the shrill ring of my phone shattered the tranquil bubble. I fumbled for it, my heart quickening with worry. It had been days since I last heard from my brother, and after our last conversation I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear what he had to say now.

With trembling fingers, I answered the call, the anticipation heavy in the air. Instead of my brother's voice on the other end, a woman spoke, her tone gentle yet carrying the weight of somber news. "Is this Brett Yang?" she inquired, her words cutting through the din of the cafe.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Yes, this is Brett," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, already sensing the impending storm.

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath catching in the stillness. "I'm calling from Phoenix Hospital," she said, her words heavy with sorrow. "I'm sorry to inform you that your father has passed away."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as her words sank in, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over me like waves against the shore. My father, the pillar of strength in our family, gone in the blink of an eye, I knew this was going to happen. I knew it ever since my brother called to tell me about my father's cancer diagnosis but no matter how much I braced myself for it, I still felt like I was going to break. The cafe faded into the background, replaced by the echoes of grief that reverberated through my soul.

Numbness washed over me as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of the loss, the weight of it settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach. The phone slipped from my trembling fingers, landing with a heavy thud on the cafe floor, shattering the fragile bubble of normalcy. The stranger seated across from me tensed, his gaze filled with concern as he watched my world unravel before him. I couldn't bring myself to retrieve it, to face the inevitable truth that awaited me on the other end of the line.

I fought to regain my composure, to uphold the facade of strength that had been ingrained in me since childhood. The Yang family must never falter, my mother's voice echoed in my mind.

But the stranger, sensing my paralysis, reached for the phone and held it out to me with gentle understanding. I accepted it, my hands still trembling as I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught of grief.

"How?" I managed to whisper, my voice a fragile thread in the silence that enveloped us.

"He's dead, he's gone, Brett, he's gone!" My brother's voice crackled through the line, raw with anguish and disbelief. He repeated the words like a desperate plea, each syllable a dagger to my already shattered heart.