BROKEN

34. BROKEN

'A thief is always known for his notorious act, even if he didn't commit a crime it's hard for people to buy his story of innocence'

~NICK~

I met my mother going through one of her online charity projects planning. She seems surprised at seeing me in the house, her expression held mixed feelings. The last time I came home was two years ago to drop off Jackie, I didn't even make it inside the building but here I am standing in it.

She mouthed for me to give her a few seconds while she then type on the laptop before muting the video conference to face me.

"What brings Mohammed to the mountain?" She asked folding her hands then whirling around in her executive chair.

I chuckle, "Fire"

She hissed shaking her head. "I thought it was supposed to be the reverse, fire on the mountain run "

We both laughed.

"Is dad home?"

Her eyes pop open, "Yes, is it what I'm thinking?" I nodded in the positive and a smile spread across her face.

"Finally, my men are about to seal things up" She said getting up and walking towards me then pull me into a tight hug, "He's in the study"

I exhale and look at the direction of the study. "Go on" She pushed me towards it, "I'll probably join you that's if this meeting end on time.

"Take it easy on yourself, mom" I added walking away from her.

It has been ages since I last saw him. Our relationship in reality wasn't the perfect father and son kind of vibe but it got worse when I got married; we drifted apart eventually because he wasn't particularly a fan of Lauren and Lauren wasn't one to play fan or pretend to be calm when feeling unwanted or insulted.

He gave me a choice and I picked her over family and that's where our relationship turn sour except occasionally running into each other at business functions. I was only his son by blood and maybe by name because I can't still bring myself to change my surname. My gaze fell on the hallway that host lovely memories. How I miss this house. I stare at the familiar door, imagining ten year old me running in and pretending to be him. I smile and exhale, this door enclosed so many memories that the feeling of guilt well up in me and I fix my eyes to the floor.

My hand felt heavier as I lifted it to place a knock but couldn't will the courage to knock. What will be my excuse for running back to him? Or my lack of visit so to say.

'He will only mock you,'  my inner voice pop out.

I heaved a deep breath and turned around to go home. I don't believe I can face him, at least not now.

"Come right in" A deep rich authoritative voice beamed from behind the closed door.

How did he know I was here, standing by the door? I sigh when I lifted my eyes to see a camera up above the door.

I roll my eyes and step in to find him going through some paperwork on his desk. His study was still the same, the smell, the setting, all were just the way I'd left except for the addition of a couch and a coffee table.

"Sit" He order in his usual non-argumentative tone still not looking up from the papers scattered on his desk. I obliged and take a sit looking at the way the pen in his grip moves effortlessly.

The urge to speak grew wild but I kept my cool. My father is someone you don't interrupt when he's deep in his business.

My hands ache to touch the beautiful diary on the desk so I did.