Page 59 of Sebastian.

“Me too, Sebastian.” Karl meets my gaze, a sense of camaraderie between us that has deep roots. “After all these years, you're more than just a friend, Seb. You're like a brother to me.”

The mention of brotherhood sends a pang through me, a mix of nostalgia and regret surging within. Karl has no idea how close to the truth he really is. It would be so easy to just tell him, right here and now, but the repercussions of such a thing are unimaginable.

“Take all the time you need. You may even take a break from work if it helps.”

“I appreciate it,” Karl says with a somber nod, patting me on the shoulder and turning to leave. His departure signals the end of our conversation. Not only that, but it’s the end of me being a crutch for Karl when he needs it most. From now on, he’s going to have to stand on his own two feet and clean up his own messes.

As the door closes behind Karl, his footsteps fading into the distance, I'm left alone in the now-silent room. The heaviness of his words lingers, mingling with my own thoughts that just won’t be silent. The choice I face seems insurmountable––to sacrifice a long-standing friendship for a chance at redemption with Julia, or to protect my own interests at the company and keep my father’s legacy alive by shielding Karl once more.

I turn back to the window, gazing out at the cityscape that stretches beyond. The view that once brought solace now feels like a reflection of the tangled mess my life has become. Even if this last effort in having Karl arrested doesn’t bring Julia back, it will be a clear sign to my two oldest that I am on their side now, and ready to right my wrongs by having Karl put away. Andries and Elise's faces flash before me, their gratitude for my supposed sacrifice is a faint glimmer of hope amidst everything else. It’s enough to keep me going, but I still hate every minute of this disaster.

But can I truly rely on their gratitude alone to feel whole again? Is being whole even possible without the gnawing uncertainty that claws at me? There are no guarantees in matters of the heart. Even as I wrestle with these thoughts, a deep ache pulses within me—a longing for Julia, for the life we once had.

I sit at my desk, the chair creaking under the weight of my contemplation. The decision I face is more than just a matter of strategy; it's a reflection of who I am, of the values I hold dear. I've always prided myself on my loyalty and my sense of duty, but now those principles seem to clash, leaving me adrift in uncharted waters.

Leaning back, my fingers intertwined behind my head, I close my eyes for a moment. The memory of Julia's smile, the warmth of her touch, and the laughter that used to fill our home flood my senses. I wonder if it's too late to rewrite our story, to rebuild what's been torn apart.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my reverie. It's my personal assistant informing me that my two afternoon meetings have been rescheduled for tomorrow. The sudden free time feels like a gift, an opportunity to escape the suffocating confines of my office.

But where do I even want to go? These days, it’s nothing but home and the office. On a whim, I pull out my phone and dial Julia's number, hoping beyond hope that she will take even a second to speak with me. Part of me knows that she’s not going to answer, but my heart still drops when the call goes straight to voicemail, and I'm met with the sound of her voice—a voice I've known so intimately, yet now it feels like a distant memory.

“Hey, Julia, it's me…” I begin, my voice betraying the tumultuous thoughts racing through my mind. “I, um, I just spoke to Karl. It looks like he's going to get five years in jail at the least. You didn't call back, not even to schedule that appointment with your divorce attorney. Is everything alright?” I pause, words hanging in the air, not knowing what else to say when I could talk to her for hours if she’d just give me the chance. The silence on the other end feels deafening, a stark reminder of the growing distance between us. I close my eyes, my fingers tapping nervously on the surface of my desk. “Just…call me when you get the chance, okay? Any hour of the day. I’ll answer.”

Hanging up feels like a physical blow, an admittance of defeat. Why won’t she just fucking call!? I’d take her disappointment, her anger, her hatred, anything is better than this radio silence. But that’s all she’ll give me right now. Silence.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples as I contemplate my next move. Should I keep trying to reach out to her, to bridge the chasm that has opened between us? Or should I accept that perhaps it's time to face the inevitable—that our paths have diverged too far to be reconciled? That she’s going to go through with the divorce without even giving me a chance to talk to her?

I can’t be in this fucking office anymore. I need some air, some space, anything but these four walls. I inform my personal assistant that I'll be stepping out and will return after lunch. The need for a moment of solitude is pressing, an urgency that I can't ignore. I exit my office, the door closing behind me with a soft click, and make my way to the parking lot.

The drive to the park where I proposed to Julia twenty-two years ago is a familiar route, etched permanently into my memory like the lines on a map. As I park the car and step out, a rush of nostalgia washes over me. The surroundings seem both familiar and distant, as if frozen in time.

The park hasn't undergone significant changes over the years. There are a few new trails, and the trees have grown taller, their branches reaching for the sky, but it’s just as enchanting as before. It's as if Mother Nature herself has embraced the passage of time, while I remain suspended in a moment that feels like a lifetime ago.

I walk along the path that leads to the spot where I once knelt and offered Julia a ring, my heart heavy with the weight of the years that have passed since then. The sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze creates a serene backdrop. Did it look like this back then, or were there more clouds in the sky? I cherish the memory so much that all I ever remember is it being perfect. It could have been a hurricane for all I cared, as long as Julia told me yes.

My footsteps slow as I approach the familiar bench, the place where Julia and I had sat for hours, lost in conversation, dreams, and promises. I take a seat, the wood slightly weathered by time, and exhale louder than usual. The memories flood back, each one a reminder of what once was.

I close my eyes, allowing the sounds of nature to envelop me. For a brief moment, it's as if time stands still, and I'm transported back to a time when the future held infinite possibilities. I can almost hear her laughter, see the way her eyes would light up when she looked at me.

But reality soon crashes back, a wave of regret and longing sweeping over me. The present is a far cry from the idyllic past we once shared. The distance between us feels impossible to conquer, and the mistakes I've made have cast a shadow over the love that once burned so brightly.

I lean back against the bench, my fingers tracing the grains of wood absentmindedly. There's a heaviness in my chest, an ache that refuses to subside. I wish I could turn back time, rewrite the latest chapters of our story with a different ending—one where I didn't let her slip away. One where I wasn’t such an absolute fuck up.

Noticing that the docks are unoccupied, I make my way over and take a seat. The weathered wood under me creaks softly as I settle in, the familiar sensation triggering memories of countless moments spent in this very spot. It's a quiet haven by the water's edge, a place where conversations and contemplations have unfolded over the years.

My mind takes me back to that first time we sat here together, Julia and I. It was a different era, a time when the only thing that mattered in the world was one another. We spoke of her parents’ divorce, and the parallel of it almost burns. There was no way in hell I could have ever thought that our lives would take a similar turn.

As I gaze out at the water, the ripples reflecting the golden hues of the afternoon sun, the guilt I've been trying to suppress resurfaces with an overwhelming force. I’ve never felt remorse like this…never. The worst part of it is that, while most of that remorse is over Julia and the kids, there is also the unavoidable remorse knowing how disappointed my father would be knowing that I’ve abandoned Karl. Again, I try to tell myself that Dad could have never anticipated how Karl would turn out and how foul some of his actions would be, but it just doesn’t help. That if he knew the man Karl would become, he would have never wanted that promise from me.

But my dad is still dead, and I still promised him I’d take care of Karl before he died. There’s no way to take it back or show him how things really are now, so I just have to live with not just being a bad husband and father, but also an oath-breaker. It makes me question what I’ve even done right in this life.

My thoughts focus on Karl himself, and I can't help but wonder if he brought me to that club with a calculated intention. Was he purposefully leading me down a path of temptation, getting me wasted knowing that I would succumb to the lap dance, and using it as leverage against me later? The thought gnaws at me. He has to know the disdain I have for sex workers and exotic dancers—I’ve definitely expressed this opinion to him when he got in trouble with the media for using escorts—so why did he choose to take me to a gentlemen’s club if not to get me drunk enough that I would discard my boundaries.

I consider telling all of this to my wife, but I don’t know how she would react to me trying to push at least some of the blame off on someone else. Maybe Julia wants me to own my mistake unflinchingly. All I can do is try.

Julia's continued silence amplifies my unease. Each passing moment without her response feels like an eternity. I find myself yearning for her presence, for the familiar sound of her voice, and the way she would challenge and comfort me all at once. I can almost hear her laughter being carried in by the wind, like I’ve heard it so many times before right here in this very spit.

Picking up a small pebble, I toss it out into the water, watching the rings spread out once it sinks beneath the surface. What am I even doing here alone? It isn’t helping me think about moving forward, instead just making me feel mired in the past.

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