The evening shift came to a close, and Nathan worked through his last few tasks with a mechanical efficiency. He wiped down the tables until the wood gleamed, scrubbed smudges from the counter, and stacked stray sugar packets neatly into a small bowl. As he finished wiping his brow, he cast a glance toward Mr. Grant, who was sitting in his usual spot by the window, reading the evening paper with his glasses perched low on his nose. The usual air of calm around Mr. Grant somehow made Nathan feel more nervous.
Taking a deep breath, Nathan moved toward his boss, rehearsing his words in his mind. This was his only chance to ask for help—he didn't have anyone else who could lend him that much money. As he approached, Mr. Grant looked up, his expression kind but guarded, sensing that Nathan wanted something important.
"Something on your mind, kid?" Mr. Grant asked, folding his paper and gesturing to the chair across from him. "Go on, take a seat."
Nathan shifted awkwardly, the weight of his request pressing down on him. "Uh, thanks, Mr. Grant," he said, lowering himself into the chair and glancing down at his hands. "I, uh... I need to ask for a favor."
Mr. Grant's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Alright, let's hear it."
Nathan cleared his throat, summoning courage. "I need an advance. A large one… around €2,000." He winced as he said the amount, immediately feeling how much it was. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't absolutely necessary. It's for my father—he's got a debt, and if I don't pay it off soon, we're going to lose our home."
Mr. Grant's expression shifted, a hint of concern mixed with caution. He leaned back, crossing his arms as he considered Nathan's words. "You know, I've been through this before," he began, his tone calm but serious. "I lent money to another employee once, a few years back. He told me a similar story. And you know what he did? Took the money and ran. Never saw him again."
Nathan's heart sank at Mr. Grant's hesitation. He looked down, fidgeting with the edge of his apron. "I understand, sir. And I know it sounds like a lot to ask, but… I promise, I'm not like that." He paused, his voice wavering. "I'll pay it back. I'll work double shifts if I have to. I just… I don't have anywhere else to turn."
Mr. Grant watched him for a long moment, then sighed, the lines around his mouth softening. "You're a good kid, Nathan. You've always shown up on time, put in the work, never complained. I guess you've earned a little faith."
Nathan's heart leapt, but he kept his expression steady, afraid to appear too eager. "Thank you, Mr. Grant. I'll make sure you don't regret it."
Mr. Grant nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. "Just don't let me down, alright? I'll give you the advance, but I expect you to keep your word."
Nathan's face broke into a relieved smile, and he nodded enthusiastically. "I will. Thank you, sir. Really, thank you so much."
Mr. Grant nodded and motioned toward the counter. "Now, don't worry about closing up tonight. You've got things to take care of, right? Go on, get home, and sort it out."
"Are you sure?" Nathan asked, a little surprised.
Mr. Grant waved a dismissive hand. "I've got it. Besides, you look like you've been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Go get some rest, and take care of your family."
"Thank you, Mr. Grant. I really can't say it enough."
As he turned to leave, the relief washed over him, so much that he barely noticed he was still wearing his apron as he walked out of the diner, feeling like he could finally breathe again.
Meanwhile,the sun had long set over Sorrento, leaving a curtain of darkness that enveloped the grand estate where Ethan had spent most of his life. The elegant facade of the mansion loomed over him as he hesitated at the entrance, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his chest. As he stepped inside, the familiar chill of the marble floors sent a shiver up his spine. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him, the shadows of the past week following closely behind.
Ethan paused at the foot of the grand staircase, his heart racing. The clinking of cutlery and muffled conversation from the dining room drew him in, a stark reminder of the life he had left behind—one filled with expectations, judgments, and the unyielding presence of his father. Gaius was already seated at the long, polished table, a glass of deep red wine in hand, his gaze fixed on a newspaper that lay spread out before him.
"Ethan," Gaius's voice sliced through the silence like a knife. It was a command, not a welcome. "Come here."
Reluctantly, Ethan approached the table, every step feeling like a trek through thick mud. He stood before his father, the man whose expectations had shaped his childhood and whose disdain had pushed him away. Gaius gestured for him to sit, a slight smirk playing on his lips as if he were amused by the discomfort hanging in the air.
The maid arrived promptly, placing a steaming plate in front of Ethan. The aroma of rich pasta filled his nostrils, yet his stomach twisted with anxiety. He could feel his father's gaze piercing through him, analyzing, judging. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Ethan's mind raced as he tried to anticipate his father's next words, dreading the confrontation he had been avoiding.
After several agonizing moments, Gaius finally broke the silence, his tone casual but laden with intention. "I had a conversation today with someone at the Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore. " he began, casually folding the newspaper as if it were just another piece of information. "They have an excellent geology program."
Ethan's heart dropped. "Geology?" he echoed, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. He had always been drawn to the earth sciences, but he knew this was no ordinary academic conversation. His father was not interested in his passions; he was interested in control.
"Yes, geology," Gaius reiterated, the weight of his tone indicating the finality of his words. "And you will be attending. It's a prestigious institution, and it will look good on our family name."
The thought of leaving Sorrento, of being sent away to a boarding university, felt like a betrayal of his own desires. "Why now?" Ethan asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Why do I need to go there?"
Gaius leaned back in his chair, a look of feigned indifference crossing his face. "Because, Ethan," he said with a condescending smirk, "you need to be away from… distractions. From that boy, David." The name hung in the air like a dark cloud, bringing a fresh wave of anxiety. Gaius continued, his voice dripping with disdain, "I found out about your little romance. Pathetic, really, to think you could find love in such a way."
Ethan's grip on the edge of the table tightened, his knuckles turning white. David wasn't just a distraction; he was Ethan's boyfriend, the first person who had made him feel seen and accepted. "You don't understand," Ethan shot back, anger flaring in his chest. "David means something to me!"
But Gaius waved a dismissive hand, silencing Ethan's protest. "I gave him €40,000," he said flatly, "and in return, he left you without a trace. How is that love?" The mocking tone in his father's voice cut deeper than any insult. "I will not have my son humiliated further. You'll go to that university and learn what you need to be a respectable member of this family."
Ethan's heart raced as he took in his father's words. The sting of rejection mixed with the overwhelming pressure of familial duty was suffocating. He knew Gaius's motivations were rooted in a desire to cure what he viewed as a deficiency in Ethan—his homosexuality. The prospect of attending a religious institution filled Ethan with dread, knowing that Gaius believed it would somehow "correct" him.
As they returned to their meals, the silence thickened once more, laden with unspoken words and unresolved tensions. Ethan forced himself to chew, but the food turned to ash in his mouth. He glanced up at his father, whose focus had shifted back to his meal, as if their earlier conversation were just another trivial matter. Deep down, Ethan felt the walls closing in, trapping him in a life he hadn't chosen and a future that felt more uncertain with each passing moment. The evening settled
into an uneasy quiet, a prelude to the battles yet to come.