bapa: from here to eternity

chapter 47: daddy issues

Bose POV:

It was Saturday, and I just couldn't focus on anything. My thoughts kept drifting back to the day before, replaying everything that happened at Sam's apartment over and over. That statue. My head was a mess, and I didn't want to bother Chapa with it. She was excited for her night—something about scary movies and takeout. I didn't want to ruin that.

Mom had invited me over for dinner. At first, I was dead set on skipping. I wasn't in the mood to sit around a table and make small talk. But then I figured maybe it would be a good time to ask her about my birth dad. I'd never asked much before, mostly because she didn't want to talk about him, and I didn't want to hear about him either. But now, with everything going on, I needed answers.

After a long, pointless day at work—where I barely got anything done because my mind was elsewhere—I headed home to grab my things. Chapa was already sprawled out on the couch, scanning through horror movie titles on the big TV.

"I'm thinking something with ghosts tonight," she mused, her eyes flicking up to me with a glimmer of excitement. "Or, ooh, maybe a psychological thriller."

She looked so happy. The way her eyes lit up when she found the perfect movie made me smile, even though my mood was in the gutter.

"You're seriously just gonna sit here all night watching creepy movies?" I teased, grabbing my jacket from the coat rack.

She gave me a playful grin. "You know I don't scream at these things." She tossed a pillow onto the couch beside her and stretched out. "You're missing out on some quality cinema, Bose."

"Quality?" I raised an eyebrow, chuckling as I shrugged on my jacket. "I'll take your word for it."

"Good luck with dinner," she said, waving as I walked toward the door. "Don't let your stepdad lecture you about the stock market again."

I smirked. "Thanks. Enjoy your, uh, 'scary' night."

I left the penthouse feeling a bit lighter, at least knowing Chapa would be having a good time. She deserved it. But as I drove to my mom's house, the weight of the day settled back in. By the time I pulled into her driveway, I felt like a storm was brewing in my chest.

Dinner was already on the table when I walked in. Mom greeted me with a hug, her usual warm smile on her face, while my stepdad gave me a nod from the dining room. Everything felt... normal, too normal. The kind of normal that only made me feel more out of place.

We sat down, and the sound of clinking forks filled the room. My mom tried to make small talk, asking about work, and my stepdad chimed in with some comment about how the stock market had been fluctuating lately. I nodded along, pretending to listen, but my mind was racing. I couldn't stop thinking about Sam, about the statue, about my birth dad. I needed to ask her, but every time I opened my mouth, the words stuck in my throat.

Finally, halfway through dinner, after my stepdad left, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom," I said, setting down my fork and looking up at her. "I need to ask you something."

She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, her eyes immediately wary. "What is it, Bose?"

I hesitated for a moment before I forced the words out. "I want to know more about my birth dad."

Her face tightened, and she put her fork down, too, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Bose, we've been over this before. I don't—"

"I know you don't like talking about him," I interrupted, trying to keep my voice steady, but the frustration was creeping in. "But I need to know something. Where did he go after he left us? You have to know something."