I set my pen down, letting the words settle on the page.
Just then, my phone buzzed. Saraph.
"Nuella? Where are you? I've been looking everywhere," she said, her voice a mix of teasing and concern.
"I'm just in my room," I replied, keeping it casual.
"Uh-huh." She laughed. "You've been avoiding me all day. You sound distracted."
I paused, staring at the ceiling. How could I explain? Daniel. Jace. Both of them filling my thoughts in ways I wasn't ready to sort through.
"Complicated," I admitted.
"Of course," she said with a knowing laugh. "Just don't forget to come out later. Life doesn't wait, Nuella."
"I won't forget," I promised.
After we hung up, I moved through my evening routine slowly, almost mechanically. Brushed my hair, watching my reflection in the mirror, searching for something in my own eyes. Certainty, maybe. Clarity.
I washed my face, the cool water grounding me. Slipped into something comfortable. Turned off the overhead light and left only the soft bedside lamp glowing.
When I finally sank onto my bed, the familiar hum of the fan filled the quiet, steady and soothing. For a moment, the world felt still. No decisions. No expectations.
I reached for my phone and scrolled until I found the contact I'd been meaning to call all evening.
"Mom."
I pressed dial before I could second-guess myself.
"Nuella! How's my girl?" Her voice spilled through the speaker, warm and familiar in a way nothing else ever was.
"I'm okay," I said, smiling despite myself. "Just finished with classes. Thought I'd check in."
"You always make me feel better when you call." A pause. "So how's everything? College life treating you?"
I shifted onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest. "It's busy. But I'm managing."
"And are you eating properly?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Resting?"
"Yes."
"Drinking enough water?"
"Okay, okay," I teased. "I promise I'm taking care of myself. I even made tea before bed."
"That's my girl," she said warmly. "Peace before sleep. The little things matter."
"I'm trying," I said quietly. There was something about her voice that always made me feel smaller, not in a bad way, but in a safe way. Like I could rest from pretending to have everything figured out.
"I just missed you," I admitted.
"You'll see me soon. I'm always just a call away."
I took a slow breath. "Can I talk to him?"
A pause. "He's asleep."
"Asleep?" I checked the time instinctively. "He never sleeps this early."
"Tonight he needed rest," she said gently. "He'll talk to you when he's awake."
"Oh. Okay."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me.
After the goodnights and the "I love yous", I ended the call and stared at the dark screen.
The room felt quieter than before. The fan still hummed. Nothing had changed.
And yet something inside me felt unsettled.
If he's not angry, why does it feel like he is? Why hasn't he called in weeks? Why does he always seem so distant?
The thought that followed came uninvited, quiet and sharp.
"Is he really my father?"
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Of course he is. What kind of thought is that?"
I almost felt guilty for thinking it. He had raised me. Taught me to ride a bike. Helped me with homework. Carried me on his shoulders when I was too tired to walk.
So why did doubt creep in now?
I exhaled slowly, watching the faint shadow of the ceiling fan spin above me. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe I was just sensitive. Maybe I missed home more than I wanted to admit.
My tea had gone cold. I reached over and took a small sip anyway, letting the bitterness sit on my tongue.
Fire. Calm. Distance. Warmth.
Life didn't always give you clear answers. Sometimes it just handed you quiet nights and left you alone with your thoughts.
The day was done. The conversations were over. And though questions lingered at the edges of my mind, exhaustion slowly pulled me under.
Not solved. Not certain. Just softer.
And maybe that was enough for tonight.