"Which makes you my favorite by default." I could hear him smiling. "How are you? You sound tired."
My defenses crumbled.
I'd been holding it together through the conversation with Cassian. Through the call with Felice. Through the walk to this park and the memories waiting on this bench. But my father's voice, the gentle concern in it, the way he'd always been able to see through my armor, undid me.
"I'm not okay," I said. The words came out strangled, barely audible.
"What happened?"
"Cassian and I talked about separating."
Silence. Then: "Oh, sweetheart."
"I don't know what to do." The tears finally came, hot and sudden, spilling down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away. "I got this fellowship offer in Europe, and Cassian got his program here, and we can't figure out how to make both things work. We love each other. We really do. But it's not enough. And I don't know how to fix it."
My father was quiet, letting me cry. He'd always known when to speak and when to simply be present. Even through the phone, across the miles between us, I could feel him there. Steady. Patient. The way he'd been my entire life.
"Do you remember when you were sixteen and you wanted to go to that medical camp in Boston?" he asked finally.
"Baba."
"Just listen. You wanted to go so badly. But it was the same summer your mother was sick, before we knew how serious it was. You were so angry that you had to choose. You said it wasn't fair."
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "I remember."
"And I told you that life is full of impossible choices. That sometimes you have to pick between two good things, and it breaks you either way." He paused. "But I also told you that choosing doesn't make you selfish. It makes you human."
"What if I choose wrong?"
"Then you'll live with the consequences. But at least you'll have chosen instead of letting fear make the decision for you."
I closed my eyes, my father's words settling over me. "I'm scared, Baba. I'm scared that if I take the fellowship, I'll lose Cassian forever. But I'm also scared that if I turn it down, I'll resent him for the rest of my life."
"Those are both valid fears. And I can't tell you which choice is right. But I can tell you that you and Cassian are both good people who love each other. If you separate, it won't be because either of you failed. It'll be because sometimes love isn't enough to overcome circumstance."
"That's what Felice said."
"Felice is a smart woman."
I laughed through my tears, the sound wet and broken. "Everyone keeps telling me I'm not doing anything wrong. So why does it feel like I'm destroying everything?"
"Because you're grieving. You're grieving the future you thought you'd have, the marriage you thought you'd build. That grief is real, even if the choice you're making is right."
"How do I know if it's right?"
"You won't. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever." His voice was gentle but honest. "But your mother and I didn't raise you to hide from hard things. We raised you to face them, even when facing them hurts."
I thought about my mother. The way she'd looked out the window sometimes, searching for something she'd lost. The sacrifices she'd made for love, for family, for a life she hadn't quite chosen.
I'd always been afraid of becoming her. Of giving up too much, of losing myself in someone else's dreams.
Maybe that fear had led me here. To this bench, to this moment, to the end of a marriage I'd sworn would last forever.
"I love him," I said. "I love him so much it scares me."
"I know you do. And he loves you. But love doesn't always mean forever. Sometimes it just means doing the best you can for as long as you can, and then letting go when holding on hurts more than it heals."
We talked for another twenty minutes, my father offering comfort without trying to fix what couldn't be fixed. By the time we hung up, the sun was starting to set, painting the lake in shades of gold and orange.
