Page 80 of A Simple Reminder

“Nice to meet you, son,” my dad says, his tone warm and approving, as if it’s been years since he’s had the chance to welcome someone new into his life.

“Likewise. It’s an honor to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things.”

We settle into the chairs, sipping coffee, and my dad and Liam ease into a conversation about soccer. Or football, as Liam calls it. It feels so natural, so normal, like a snapshot of a life untouched by time or pain.

My dad launches into an enthusiastic retelling of the FC Barcelona game he saw “last Saturday.” Last Saturday, ten years ago.

The excitement in his voice is so vivid, so real, as if he’s back in that stadium seat, watching Messi dominate the field.

He even recounts the infamous incident when Suárez got ‘a little too passionate’ and bit an opponent.

Liam listens with genuine interest, smiling and nodding, unfazed by the ten years that have slipped between then and now. He lets my dad relive every detail, laughing and chiming in as if they’re sharing an experience from just a week ago.

I watch them, a soft smile lifting the corners of my mouth, but beneath it, a heaviness settles in my chest. This is everything I used to dream of, back when I was actually in Barcelona, missing my dad with that fierce ache only distance and time can create. And here he is, fully himself, clear-eyed and laughing, remembering a different version of me. But also the longing of both the men I love finally meeting each other.Loved. Both the men I loved.

There’s joy in that, but there’s also an ache, like holding onto something precious yet knowing it will slip through my fingers the moment I blink. He remembers, and that should be enough. But the Sophie of today—the one standing right here—does not exist in his world. It's like I’m a ghost in my own life, caught between the sweetness of memory and the bittersweet ache of reality.

“Look at that. Time flies when you’re having fun. It’s already one o’clock, time for Lars’ therapy,” Aliyah says, casting me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, hun. You know how important these sessions are.”

“I know. Don’t worry.” My heart sinks a bit as reality sets in, the moment slipping away. “Thank you for calling me.”

“Any time.”

We both stand, and Liam reaches out to shake my dad’s hand again. But instead of taking it, my dad pulls him into an embrace—a strong, all-encompassing hug that seems to hold more than just a greeting. “Take care of my Sophie,” he says, his voice filled with emotion, each word laced with a quiet authority.

Liam hesitates for only a fraction of a second before his arms close around my father, holding him back just as firmly. I hear the deep, steady breath Liam releases, one that sounds like it’s been locked inside him for years, waiting for this exact moment to escape. His whole body softens, the tension in his shoulders melting away, as though he’s finally found the acceptance he didn’t even realize he was searching for.

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from falling apart, my heart twisting at the sight. As much as I needed this moment, so did Liam. Maybe even more.

When it’s my turn, I step forward, but my dad stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. “Aliyah, Liam, would you mind giving me a moment alone with my daughter?”

As the door closes, he turns to me, his eyes filled with warmth and pride. His gaze rests on me, like I’m his entire world, like I’m exactly the person he’s always believed I could be.

“You did good,” he says, his voice soft but full of conviction.

My brows furrow. “I don’t understand.”

“Liam.” A knowing smile touches his lips. “He’s good for you.”

Instinctively, as if I’m back to being that twenty-year-old girl, I start to brush it off. “He’s just a friend.”

But he shakes his head gently. “No, he’s not. You told me about him yesterday, remember?” His voice lowers, eyes intent on mine. “He’s much more than a friend. He looks at you like he’d do anything to keep you safe. And you—you look so at ease around him.”

“I-I…” My voice catches, a feeling of vulnerability washing over me as if he’s peering straight into my heart.

“I can see it in his eyes, you know. He loves you,” he whispers, his voice faltering just slightly. “Do you love him?”

The question hits me like a wave, crashing over every wall I’ve built around my feelings. My heart hammers, my skin flushes, and my breath catches as though I’ve been waiting to speak this truth all my life.

“I do.” The words slip out, unguarded, and in that moment, I know they’re the truest thing I’ve ever said.

“I’m happy for you.” A soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes glistening with something I can’t name but feel deeply. “Promise me, you’ll let yourself be loved, Sophie. Fully. No holding back, no hiding.”

His hand gently lifts to caress my cheek, his touch grounding. Then, with a hint of playful sternness in his voice, he adds, “And no more tattoos.”

A laugh escapes me, a fragile but genuine sound that surprises us both. Tears prick my eyes for the millionth time, but I allow it. Because today feels like the first time in what feels like forever, they’re not from pain—they’re from love. Because today, I made him a new promise.

“I promise,” I whisper.

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