James regarded Mark, curiosity laced with empathy. Mark sighed, his gaze lost in the sky above. "When I was younger, I thought time was on my side. I believed I would always have a chance to fix things, to go back and make things right. But that's the thing about time—it doesn't wait for anyone."
James shifted, leaning in with newfound interest. "What happened?"
Mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as painful memories surfaced. "I was just like any other guy my age. I wanted to make something of myself, build a career and a name. I got wrapped up in work, in travel, convinced I was on the right path. But with every choice I made, I drifted further away from the people who mattered most—my parents." He paused, the ache in his chest palpable. "I didn't notice it at the time. I thought they understood, that they'd always be there when I was ready to come home. But… life doesn't always work that way."
---
Flashback Starts
Scene: The Argument
Mark paced the living room, frustration bubbling in his chest. His father sat on the worn-out couch, his expression heavy with desperation.
"Mark, your brother got into a prestigious school," his father began, his voice strained. "But the tuition... it's too high. We were hoping you could help with it."
Mark froze, temper flaring. "Help out? You mean you want me to give you money for his dreams while you did nothing to support mine?" The accusation flew from his lips, hot and stinging.
His father's expression shifted from desperation to frustration. "This isn't just about you! Your brother has worked hard for this opportunity. He deserves a chance!"
"And what about me?" Mark shot back, voice rising. "I struggled and fought for everything I have! You didn't care about my dreams when I was studying. You brushed them aside like they didn't matter!"
"You think I didn't care?" His father's voice wavered, a mix of hurt and anger. "Do you think this was easy for me? I was trying hard to put food on the table for both of you."
Mark felt his blood boil, each word igniting a fire within him. "I'm tired of being treated like a child, expected to give my hard-earned money to support someone else's dream!"
Tension crackled in the air, and his father stood, fists clenched at his sides. "What do you mean someone else? That's your brother. You're being selfish Mark! Your brother is family, and you don't want to support him when you can? That's not how family works!"
Mark laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Family doesn't just ask for handouts when it suits them! I worked my ass off for every penny, and now you want to act like I owe you something?"
His father stepped closer, face hardening. "You ungrateful little brat! You think it's all about you? What do you think it costs to raise you and your brother?"
Mark felt a surge of anger. In a moment of reckless defiance, he mockingly laughed, "Cost? Why do you think I stopped going to school? Because you asked me to fucking dropped out as you were struggling to pay the tuition in which I understand."
Mark's voice cracked "Even though I dropped out from school, I still worked my ass off hoping I can lessen the burdens that you and mom's had. I didn't even complain when you asked me to pay the bills or the debts."
His father who was remorseful as his father felt guilty but his father knows that his career is blooming especially after he got promoted. So his father thought he could help his brother pursue his brother's dream.
But Mark was jealous as he didn't even have that support like his brother and also wanted to live his own life as he is tired of giving others what he had.
Mark can't help but say something that he would regret throughout his life "And now that I succeed on my own, you expect me to support someone else's dream when even you cannot support mine? Fuck you!"
The words hung heavy in the air, charged with resentment. In that instant, Mark's father lost control. He swung, his fist connecting with Mark's jaw, the force of the blow sending him stumbling back. Shock coursed through him as he touched the tender spot where his father's anger had struck.
"You don't get to curse me like this!" his father yelled, breath heavy with rage. "You're the one who needs to understand how much we sacrificed for you!"
Mark's heart raced, tears of anger stinging his eyes. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask to be treated like a commodity!"
As he turned away, the weight of regret settled in his gut. "You know what? Maybe I should just leave and never come back to this broken house." He stormed out, leaving his father standing there, a mixture of rage and sorrow etched across his face.
In the corner, his mother cried, clutching his younger brother, who looked up at Mark with wide, betrayed eyes. The silent accusation in his gaze pierced through Mark like a dagger.
---
Flashback Ends
Mark blinked, the memories still raw as he looked down at his hands. "I left that day, full of pride and anger. My brother called me a jerk for letting my success go to my head, for forgetting our parents' sacrifices. But I didn't care. I thought I was right."
He paused, voice catching before he continued. "Years passed. I worked my ass off for a company that didn't care about me. Then, one day, I was fired. They replaced me with some kid from higher up—a nephew who had no idea what he was doing. I lost my job, my house... everything. And when I went back home, my brother…"
He stopped, the memory still vivid.
Mark stared at the ground. "I went back home after all those years, thinking maybe I could… I don't know, patch things up. But it was my brother who opened the door."
---
Mark stood on the porch, his heart was beating fast as he was nervous. The door suddenly creaked open, revealing his younger brother, now older and stronger. Before Mark could speak, his brother's fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling back.
"Why are you back here?" his brother hissed, eyes blazing with anger. "Didn't you say you'd never come back to this broken house? And now here you are. Pathetic."
Mark remained silent, taking the hit—both physical and emotional. His brother glared at him, voice laced with resentment. "Dad died last year. And Mom… well, you'll see what you've done when you see her."
---
"I deserved that punch," Mark said softly, regret ringing his voice. "Everything he said… he was right. I had left them when they needed me most. And now… my dad was gone, and my mom..." He trailed off, unable to finish, emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
Mark added, "After my brother told me I should see Mom, I felt uneasy, especially when he said that Dad died without me knowing what happened to him, and now Mom…"
His voice faltered, hands trembling as he remembered walking into the house that day. "When I got inside the house, it was quiet. Too quiet. The place was nothing like the house I grew up in. No sounds of Dad's grumbling about the news, no smells of Mom's cooking from the kitchen—just… emptiness. Every step I took felt heavier, like the walls were closing in. I was terrified of what I'd find."
He paused, voice breaking as the memory tightened its grip on him. "Then I saw her… my mom."
Mark closed his eyes, as if to picture the scene clearly. "She lay in bed, frail… so small compared to the vibrant woman I remembered. Her once-strong hands, which used to lift me as a kid, were now thin and trembling, resting on a blanket that seemed too heavy for her fragile frame. Tubes connected her to the machines that wheezed and beeped softly. And her face… God, her face. It was pale, sunken, but when she saw me… when her eyes met mine…"