"Luau day." I said. "He saw me at the beach."
"He knows about Tommy?"
"He knows."
"What does he want?"
I turned to look at him. His brows drew tighter, not with gossipy curiosity, but worry that I'd get hurt. He'd always been like this—six years, never crossed boundaries, but always there when I needed him.
"He says he has regrets," I said. "Wants to make up for it. These past few days, he keeps showing up, bringing things, watching from a distance, never saying anything. Today he came again, sat at the beach all afternoon."
"What are you thinking?"
"I don't know." I turned back to the window. The sky had gone completely dark, that slice of ocean invisible now, just a few boat lights in the distance. The smell of food drifted from the table, but I had no appetite.
Mark was quiet for a while. Then he stood up, came around to my side, and sat in the chair next to me.
"Ella." His voice was steady. "I know this might not be the right time. But there's something I want to tell you."
I looked into his eyes. He seemed a bit nervous; his Adam's apple bobbed, lips pressed together.
"I've admired you all these years." He met my eyes. "You're strong, kind, a good mother. I know raising a child alone isn't easy. You work so hard, then come home to cook and spend time with him, and take him out on weekends. But you nevercomplain, never show him how tired you are. Every time I see you pick Tommy up after work, see him run to you, hug your legs, and call you Mommy, I think..."
He stopped, like he was searching for the right words.
"I think if I could have a wife like you, a child like Tommy, that would be enough for this lifetime."
I didn't speak. The sound of waves outside grew clearer—probably high tide now, bigger than during the day, rolling in and pulling back out.
"If you're willing," he said, "I could be Tommy's father. Give you both a complete family."
After he finished that sentence, he stopped. The floor lamp's light flickered in his eyes, bright, watching me with both hope and nervousness.
I wanted to speak but didn't know what to say.
He kept going, like he was afraid I'd interrupt, or like he wanted to get it all out at once. "I know you haven't let him go yet. That's normal. You had a past together, you have a child—it's not easy to just let go. But Ella, he abandoned you six years ago and now suddenly reappears. Can you guarantee he won't leave again? I'm different."
"I'll always be by your side. Give you a stable life, give Tommy a father's love. I don't need you to answer right away, but I want you to know—you have another choice."
I looked into his eyes. His gaze was sincere, no dodging, no falseness, nothing that made you uncomfortable.
But images of Paul suddenly flashed through my mind—Boston University library six years ago, the Four Seasons, the beach six years later, outside the hospital, the supermarket. Which one was the real him?
I looked at Mark in front of me. He wore an ordinary plaid shirt, cuffs a bit wrinkled. His salary wasn't high, and hedrove a nine-year-old Toyota. He'd never look at me with that condescending gaze. He'd never make me think of those words.
"Mark." I finally spoke, voice hoarse. "Thank you. I... I need time to think."
"That's fine. I'll wait." He said, his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but couldn't quite manage it. "Ella, whatever you decide, I'll respect it."
He started eating, talking about other things. The community center had a new volunteer from the mainland. There was a parent-child activity next weekend, making crafts—would Tommy want to join? I answered absently, those words still spinning in my head.
After dinner, Mark left. I walked to the window and looked out.
Six years ago, when I first came to Hawaii, I stood by a window looking at this ocean too. Back then, I rented a different apartment, even smaller than this one, with a window facing another building, not the sea. But I'd still walk far to see it. I told myself then I'd never rely on anyone again, just myself.
These six years, I'd done it. I'd supported myself and Tommy with my own hands. When he got sick, I carried him to the hospital alone, registered, paid, got medicine, and held him in the infusion room until late at night. When he cried in the middle of the night, I held him and walked around the apartment alone, singing to him until he fell back asleep. I never complained because this was my choice, my child, my life.
But now Paul had reappeared. He really was different from before, but I didn't know how long that would last, when he'd change back, whether he'd abandon me again.
