Page 93 of Beyond Friendship

I turn my attention to Niko. “Aren’t you scared as heck he’ll develop any?”

He nods solemnly, his brows knitted together.

“Of course. Any parent would be scared. But being a parent is about learning to accept the possibility of your kids getting hurt or sick one day. We just have to make the best of every day we have together.”

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “Brugada isn’t necessarily a death sentence; it can make life challenging, but we are both alive and healthy. Nathan is a happy boy living life to its fullest.” He looks away in thought, then back at me again. “Akito and I treat him no differently than anyone else, but we remain aware of any potential danger. For example, we always carry Tylenol, knowing a fever can trigger Brugada symptoms. Initially, I was devastated when I found out he had the gene,” Niko admits. “But I reminded myself of the fact that I grew up symptom-free and without any health issues. Just because I have an ICD doesn’t mean he will need one in the future; many people with this condition are able to live healthy lives with medication and some are simply carriers.”

With a cup in his hand, Nathan comes our way, followed by his mom. He stops before me and offers me the drink. “Thank you for your help.”

My lips curl, and I take the mug from him. “No problem. Just make sure you think twice before you walk off next time.”

His cheeks color and Niko smiles.

“Daddy?” a soft voice mumbles. I glance at the little girl rubbing her sleepy eyes. Niko squats, and after removing her safety belt, he picks her up and kisses her chubby cheek.

“Hey, sweetie.”

The little girl hides her face in her dad’s neck when she sees me.

Akito chuckles. “She’s a real daddy’s girl.”

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Nathan says, rubbing his stomach.

“That is our cue to go. Thanks again, Brian. Hope you had a pleasant conversation with my husband,” she says with a knowing smile.

Niko nods. “Yeah, we did.” He grabs a card from his pocket with his other hand and holds it out to me. “Call me if you want to talk.”

“I take it. Thanks,” I say, shaking his hand.

Akito takes the stroller, and as a family, they disappear into the mass of shopping people. I take a sip of my drink and ponder the situation at hand. My thoughts swirl around one point in particular: They have a young son with the Brugada gene and a daughter who does not, yet both are happy and content. This realization eases the oppressive darkness of my mind, which has been my sole companion these past weeks. Then suddenly, the familiar smell of my mother’s perfume fills the air around me like a gentle embrace, and a smile finds its way onto my face for the first time in what feels like eternity.

29

AMANDA

The gentle morning light washes over me and I sigh as I gaze at the Italian sunrise.

“No other sight can compare to the beauty of Mother Nature.”

I turn and smile at Aris, the housekeeper, before refocusing my gaze on the spectacular sight before me. “Yes, it’s a stunning display,” I say in admiration as I take it all in.

Aris stops next to me, and a few minutes pass before he speaks while looking over the blue water. “Something is weighing heavily on your mind. Am I right?”

I glance sideways and meet his gentle hazelnut-colored eyes inspecting me. Not able to speak, I nod. He lays his warm hand on my shoulder. “Just remember that this moment is the only one we truly have for sure. Breathe and let go.”

“Those are wise words, Aris.”

“Oprah’s wisdom, not mine.” He grins before holding up a bag. “I arranged breakfast for you. Would you like to eat outside on the terrace?”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” I say.

He nods and as he walks back toward the entrance of this impressive villa, my focus goes back to the clear water stretching out to the horizon. This place is a stunning oasis. But how can I enjoy it when my heart is trying to make its way back from the gloomy gutter of sadness?

I clutch my arms around myself as I stare off into nothingness. Four weeks have passed since Vera’s funeral, but the agonizing pain of Brian’s departure lingers in my heart with a searing intensity. His final words continue to ring through my mind like an ever-present echo, taunting me with their cruel finality.

Sleep has become a rare companion, refusing to come easily and preferring to make its appearance only when I’ve cried myself into exhausted oblivion. My family and friends try their best to be encouraging, but the anguish remains; a deep chasm that cannot be filled no matter how hard they try. One night, engulfed in grief, I crouched down in the bathroom corner and feared the river of agony would undo me.

That’s when Nick showed up, a concerned expression on his face. I can only imagine what thoughts rushed through his head the moment he found me huddled up on the bathroom floor wearing nothing but a towel, tears streaming down my face. He said nothing as he walked forward and enveloped me in his warm embrace. No questions or judgment, only love and him pledging his determination to help me.

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