Marriage By Deception

13. Fractured Bonds

The days following Christopher's conversation with Ethan were marked by a sense of determination. The weight that had been pressing down on him had lightened, and he found himself focusing more on the future than the past. The startup continued to demand his attention, and for the first time, he felt fully engaged in the work, seeing it not just as an escape, but as a path forward.

But as the days turned into weeks, the silence from his family became more difficult to ignore. His mother's messages grew less frequent, her concern still evident but tinged with a resignation that made Christopher's heartache. There was no word from his father, no acknowledgment of the choices Christopher had made or the life he was trying to build. It was as if the fracture between them had deepened into a chasm, one that Christopher wasn't sure could ever be bridged.

One afternoon, as Christopher was reviewing financial projections in his small office, his phone buzzed with a call. He glanced at the screen, his heart skipping a beat when he saw his mother's name. Taking a deep breath, he answered.

"Mom," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "How are you?"

There was a pause on the other end, long enough to make Christopher'sstomach twist with unease. When his mother finally spoke, her voice was strained, as if she was holding back tears.

"Christopher, we need to talk."

The formality in her tone sent a chill down his spine. "What's wrong?"

"It's your father," she replied, her voice trembling. "He's had a heart attack."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the words not fully registering in Christopher's mind. "A heart attack? When? Is he... is he okay?"

"He 'stable now, but it was serious," she said, the words coming out in a rush. "He's in the hospital. The doctors say he'll need time to recover, but... Christopher, he's asking for you."

Christopher felt like the air had been knocked out of him. For so long, he had been at odds with his father, struggling to find a way to break free from the expectations that had been placed on him. But hearing that his father was vulnerable, that he was asking for him, shattered the walls Christopher had built around his heart.

"I'll come right away," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

His mother gave him the details of the hospital, and after a brief exchange, they ended the call. Christopher sat there for a moment, his mind racing. The work that had seemed so important just minutes before now felt insignificant in the face of his father's condition.

Without hesitation, Christopher grabbed his coat and left the office, his mind focused solely on getting to the hospital. The drive felt like ablur, the city's familiar streets passing by in a haze of worry and regret. He thought about all the things he had left unsaid, all the arguments that now seemed petty and meaningless. The idea of losing his father before they had a chance to reconcile filled him with a deep, gnawing fear.

When he arrived at the hospital, Christopher was directed to the cardiac ward. The sterile smell of the place, the hushed voices, and the beating of monitors only heightened his anxiety. He found his mother in the waiting area, her face pale and drawn. She stood as soon as she saw him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"He's there," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The doctors say he's out of immediate danger, but he's still weak."

Christopher nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He followed his mother down along corridor until they reached a private room. She stopped outside the door, her hand resting on the handle.

"Goon," she said softly. "He's been asking for you."

With a deep breath, Christopher pushed the door open and stepped inside. His father was lying in the hospital bed, looking smaller and more fragile than Christopher had ever seen him. The strong, imposing figure who had always seemed larger than life was now diminished, his face pale and lined with pain.

Christopher approached the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dad," he said quietly.

His father's eyes opened slowly, focusing on Christopher with an intensity that made him feel like a child again. There was no anger in his gaze, no disappointment—only a deep weariness that spoke of the toll life had taken on him.

"Christopher, "his father said, his voice hoarse and weak. "You came."

"Of course I did," Christopher replied, his voice thick with emotion."I'm here."

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the silence between them filled with all the words they had never said. Christopher wanted to apologize, to explain, to find some way to bridge the gap between them. But the words wouldn't come, and all he could do was reach out and take his father's hand.

"I've been hard on you," his father said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Too hard, maybe."

Christopher shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. "You were just trying to do what you thought was best. I know that."

"I pushed you too much," his father continued, his gaze never leaving Christopher's. "I wanted you to be something—someone—that maybe you're not. And in doing that, I lost sight of what matters."

Christopher felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. "Dad, I... I never wanted to disappoint you. I just needed to find my way, to figure out who I am outside of all of this."

His father closed his eyes for a moment as if gathering his strength. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his gaze that Christopher had never seen before. "I see that now. And I'm proud of you, Christopher. Proud that you dared to do what I couldn't—to walk away from the life that was expected of you and find something real."

The words hit Christopher like a wave, washing over him with a force he hadn't anticipated. For so long, he had craved his father's approval, and now, in this quiet, fragile moment, he finally had it.

"Thank you," Christopher whispered, his voice breaking.

His father squeezed his hand weakly, a small, tired smile on his lips. "I just want you to be happy, son. Whatever that looks like."

Christopher nodded, unable to speak through the lump in his throat. The silence between them was no longer heavy with tension, but filled with an understanding that had been hard-won. They had both made mistakes,  and both allowed pride and fear to come between them, but in the end, they were still father and son. And that bond, no matter how fractured, was something that could be mended.

As Christopher sat by his father's side, the beeping of the heart monitor steady and reassuring, he felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for so long. The road ahead was still uncertain, but he knew that he wasn't alone. They had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, they were facing it together.

And that, Christopher realized, was a start.