When Love Break Ties

Chapter 33: Nathan's Guilt

Nathan lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment, the weight of his choices bearing down on him like a storm cloud that refused to move. The soft hum of Tokyo at night—the distant honk of a car horn, the occasional buzz of his phone—was nothing compared to the noise inside his mind. Every thought circled back to his family, to the tension that had grown between them ever since he and Abby became serious.

He couldn't escape the feeling that he had let them down.

It wasn't just the sharp words exchanged during their visit or the recent failed attempt at reconciliation. It was deeper than that. He had seen the disappointment in their eyes, the quiet concern they had tried to mask but couldn't quite hide. His mother's sad, understanding looks. His father's steely silence that spoke louder than any words could.

Nathan had always been close to his family. Growing up in Manila, family was everything. Every weekend, they would gather at his grandparents' house for lunch, his titos and titas catching up, his cousins running around the garden, and his lola spoiling everyone with her famous dishes. It was a life filled with laughter, warmth, and an unspoken understanding that family came first.

Now, that foundation felt like it had crumbled.

He turned over in bed, glancing at his phone, its screen glowing faintly on the bedside table. He thought about calling his mother, telling her that he missed her, that he was sorry for everything. But the thought of hearing her voice, tinged with hurt, stopped him. What could he say that would make it better?

A familiar pang of guilt stabbed at his chest. It had been growing for weeks now, intensifying after each conversation, each argument with Abby about his family. It was like a constant, gnawing presence in the back of his mind, reminding him of the widening gap between him and the people who had always been his rock.

He remembered his father's words, blunt and direct as always: "We hardly recognize you anymore, Nathan."

Those words haunted him. Had he really changed so much? He used to take pride in his close relationship with his parents, their deep bond built on respect and shared values. But ever since he'd moved to Tokyo, ever since Abby came into his life, it felt like that bond had frayed, stretched to the breaking point.

Nathan sat up, his head pounding with the weight of his thoughts. The guilt gnawed at him, deepening as he replayed the decisions he had made. He had let Abby become his entire world, and in doing so, he had pushed away the very people who had been his foundation.

What had he been thinking?

He rose from the bed, pacing the small apartment. The memories of his last conversation with his father echoed in his mind, the disappointment in his voice clear. His father had always been the strong, silent type, the kind of man who led by example. He didn't say much, but when he did, it carried weight. And lately, all Nathan had heard from him were words of caution, veiled warnings about the path he was on.

Nathan had brushed them off at first, convinced that his father just didn't understand. But now, standing alone in the dim light of his apartment, he realized that maybe his father had been right all along.

He had chosen Abby—over his family, over the life he had known. And now, he wasn't sure if that had been the right choice.

The next day, Nathan found himself wandering through the streets of Tokyo, his thoughts still heavy. The bustling city felt indifferent to his inner turmoil, the crowds of people moving with purpose while he felt stuck, lost in the middle of it all. He passed by the same shops, the same alleyways, but everything seemed different now, as if the world around him had shifted in some subtle way.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the messages from his family. There weren't many. His mother had sent him a few check-ins, asking how he was, if he was eating well. His father had sent nothing, a silence that spoke volumes. His sister Irene had sent a message a few days ago, a picture of the family at lunch, his seat at the table noticeably empty.

He stopped walking, staring at the photo. Everyone was smiling, but he could see the forced cheer in their expressions, the way his mother's eyes didn't quite light up the way they used to. He imagined what they must have said when the photo was taken, the quiet remarks about how much they missed him, how things weren't the same without him.

Nathan's chest tightened with guilt.

He knew he needed to fix things, but he didn't know how. Every time he thought about reaching out, he hesitated, afraid of making things worse. The distance between him and his family felt like a chasm, too wide to cross. And yet, the longer he waited, the more that distance grew.

As he continued walking, his thoughts turned to Abby. She had been his anchor here in Tokyo, the person who had made this strange city feel like home. But lately, even that had begun to change. Their fights had grown more frequent, their conversations more tense. He could feel the strain in their relationship, the unspoken tension between them.

Nathan had tried to explain the importance of family to Abby, but she had never fully understood. Her own relationship with her family was complicated, strained by years of unresolved issues. She saw his parents as overbearing, their concerns as outdated and controlling. And Nathan, caught between the two worlds, didn't know how to bridge the gap.

But now, he was beginning to see the cost of his choices. In choosing Abby, he had alienated his family. And yet, despite everything, he couldn't bring himself to blame Abby entirely. He had made his own decisions, and now he was living with the consequences.

Nathan found himself standing in front of a small café, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries wafting through the air. He stepped inside, hoping the quiet atmosphere would help clear his head.

Sitting at a table near the window, Nathan pulled out his phone again, his fingers hovering over his mother's number. He had to say something, to break the silence that had grown between them. But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, he opened his messaging app and started typing.

"Hi, Ma. I've been thinking a lot about our last conversation. I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how things have been lately, and I'm sorry for not being the son you deserve. I know I've been distant, and I know I've let you down."

He paused, staring at the words on the screen. It wasn't enough, but it was a start.

"I miss you and Dad. I miss home. I don't know how to fix everything, but I want to try."

Nathan hit send, his heart racing as the message disappeared into the digital ether. He didn't know what kind of response he would get, but at least he had taken the first step.

As he sat there, waiting, the weight of his guilt felt a little lighter. He still had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was moving in the right direction.

That evening, Nathan returned to his apartment to find Abby sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine absentmindedly. She glanced up as he entered, her expression guarded.

"How was your day?" she asked, her tone neutral.

Nathan hesitated, unsure of how to answer. He didn't want to add more strain to their relationship, but he also couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine.

"I messaged my mom today," he said quietly.

Abby looked up, surprised. "You did?"

"Yeah. I had to. I've been feeling... guilty. About everything. I miss them, Abby."

She nodded slowly, her eyes softening. "I know you do. And I know I haven't made it easy for you."

Nathan sat down next to her, feeling the weight of the conversation between them. "It's not just you. I've made my own mistakes. But I need to find a way to fix things with them."

Abby reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand, Nathan. And I want to help, if you'll let me."

For the first time in weeks, Nathan felt a glimmer of hope. It wouldn't be easy, but maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to mend the broken pieces of his life.

As he sat there with Abby, he realized that the road ahead was uncertain, but he was finally ready to face it—guilt and all.