Silence stretches between us like a tripwire, both of us staring at the garden.
"Something you want to say?" I give him a sideways look, sharp as a blade.
Maurice clears his throat. "What do you want to hear?"
Rage coils in my gut like a serpent. The fucking audacity - to walk back in here after all this time like he just stepped out for cigarettes, not vanished for seven years leaving nothing but questions and grief.
"You could start by explaining how the fuck you’re here, and where you’ve been for the past seven years." The words come out like bullets.
He exhales, long and heavy. "Look, I’ll tell you." His eyes meet mine, steady. "But only if you’re willing to listen without ripping my throat out."
I study him, really look at him. Seven years have carved new lines in his face, threaded silver through his hair and beard. He might be looking well-groomed and composed, might have cleaned up his act, but I can see the toll of those lost years etched into him like scars.
I give him a sharp nod. Words would taste like ash right now.
"I’ll start with the Tramoxine launch," he says, eyes fixed on the sky like he’s reading his confession in the clouds. "One of the worst days of my life. In a sense, I did die that day."
My jaw locks so tight I can hear my teeth grinding. That night still bleeds when touched, a wound that won’t scab over no matter how many years pass.
"But I’m glad to see you and Mindy found your way back," Maurice’s voice softens, and something in me bristles. "She’s a good woman, Maron. She deserves happiness. And so do you."
My body turns to steel at his words. Him speaking Mindy’s name feels like a violation, like he’s reaching across sacred lines he has no right to cross.
"After the Tramoxine launch, I blacked out," he continues. "Next thing I knew, I was waking up in some hospital bed, doctors telling me I’d been dead for two minutes before they dragged me back. They told me it was a miracle."
I stare at him, letting silence do the cutting.
"First thing I did when I could think straight was pay off those doctors to declare me dead. Cost me all the money I had, but it was the only way."
"The only way?" I snap. My fists clench and unclench, rage burning through my veins like gasoline. "You didn’t think your family deserved to know you were breathing?"
He meets my gaze, unflinching. "Maron, we both know I couldn’t come back after what happened. After the shitstorm I brought down on all of us. I was a walking disaster, destroying everything I touched." He looks away, his voice dropping. "I needed a clean slate. So, when I could finally drag myself out of that hospital bed, I ran. And I never looked back."
I give him a sideways look, sharp as a knife. "And where did you run?"
"Thailand." His eyes meet mine, steady.
"What the fuck?" The words explode from me. "Thailand? Of all the fucking places?"
"I was beyond fucked up, Maron. Rational thought wasn’t exactly my strong suit. All I knew was I had to disappear."
When I say nothing, he fills the silence.
"I was a mess," he continues. "Landed in Bangkok, the first thing I did was pissed away most of the money you paid me on booze and powder. Until the authorities caught up with me. Threw my ass in rehab."
"Shocking." The word drips with sarcasm.
"That rehab saved my life, Maron." He doesn’t flinch at my tone. "Took more than six months to get my head straight." He draws a deep breath. "But coming back wasn’t an option. So, I stayed. Once I was out of rehab, I moved up to Chiang Mai, even took a job at a hotel. I thought I was building myself a life until..." His voice shifts, takes on a quality I’ve never heard from him before. "I met a local girl. Linny. We fell hard for each other. And we started piecing together something real."
I study his face, looking for the lies I’ve learned to expect from him. But his eyes are clear, haunted by something that looks genuine for once.
"And?" The word comes out softer than I intended.
His throat works. "Linny got pregnant. We were… we were happy." His voice cracks. "But the universe wasn’t done fucking with me yet."
I lean forward, furrowing my brow. There’s something in his voice that hooks into me.
"Almost eight months into her pregnancy, she woke up to excruciating pain. I rushed her to hospital, but..." He stops, struggling. "Turns out it was an infection. Took them both. Linny and our baby, gone in a heartbeat."