𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙊𝙣𝙚. 𝘈 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘵

                                    

                                          
I sit on the sofa in the dimly lit apartment I share with Steph. The weight of the phone in my hand felt heavier than ever before. The call had come out of nowhere, catching me off gaurd in the worst possible way. 
"𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴." 
The words echo in my head as I stare at the screen, reading the call log again as if the reality of it hadn't quite sunk in. I hadn't spoken to my dad in years. Not since I came out. Not since he made it clear I wasn't welcome in his life. And now he was gone, and I'm expected to deal with the aftermath.
My mind races with a flood of emotions I don't want to deal with: grief, anger, and a bitterness I didn't even know I was capable of. My father was gone, and with him went any chance of reconciliation. But what reconciliation? He didn't wanted me in his life. And now, I had to face the ghost of a man who had left me long before his death.
My hand trembled as I typed a message on my phone.
𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠? 
I stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, waiting for Caitlin's response. I don't know why Caitlin is the person I reached out to. We hadn't been right in months. We hadn't been anything since that night. And yet, Caitlin is the only one who knows the truth about my family. 
When the notification pops up, her heart skips a beat.
𝙊𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 
I feel a lump in my throat. I don't want to explain everything over text. I don't want to feel the weight of this alone anymore. Without replying. I stand up, grabbing my keys, and leave the apartment.
I meet Caitlin at a small park near the training grounds. Caitlin was already waiting for me, leaning against the back of her car, hands in her pockets, looking more nervous than I'd ever seen her. 
For a moment, I hesitate. I have no idea how to begin, and the words felt stuck in my throat, but Caitlin met my eyes, and the concern there— the genuine concern— was enough to break through my defenses.
"I got a call today," I say, my voice shaky. "My father died."
Caitlin's eyes widen in surprise. She straightens up, stepping closer to me. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
I nod, though the apology feels hollow. "I haven't spoken to him in years. Not since... you know." I swallow hard. "They want me to go clear out his house. I don't know why they even bothered calling me."
Caitlin's face softens with understanding. She knows what I've been through. She knows the pain, the rehection, the way my  dad had severed ties with me after I came out to him. "That's a lot to deal with," Caitlin says quietly. "You don't have to do it alone, you know."
I bite my lip, feeling the weight of my pride, the urge to keep pushing everyone away. But the truth is, I didn't want to do this alone. I couldn't. 
"I don't know why I'm asking you this, but..." I hesitate. "Will you come with me? To his house?"
Caitlin doesn't hesitate. "Of course. I'll be there."



The hum of the car engine fills the silence between us. The sun is high in the sky, casting long shadows on the road as we drive further away from the city. The closer we get to my father's house, the heavier the weight in the air seems to grow.