Page 68 of Baran
Baran didn’t answer immediately. He stared at his father, the shock of seeing him standing there muddling his thoughts. But after a long moment, he stepped back, opening the door wider.
“Come in,” Baran said, his voice stiff but not unkind.
His father entered, glancing around the house with an air of both familiarity and nervousness. After setting the bag down, he turned to Baran, his expression somber. “Before I greeteveryone else, I was hoping we could talk. Just the two of us. Maybe in another room?”
Baran’s heart pounded, but he nodded. “Alright.” He led his father to a small study off the main hall, closing the door behind them.
His father stood awkwardly for a moment, then gestured to the chairs. “Let’s sit.”
Baran remained standing, arms crossed. “What do you want?
His father sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I want to apologize, Baran. For everything. For leaving. For what I did at the gala. For not being there when you need me. For the years we lost.”
Baran’s eyes narrowed, emotions warring within him. “Why now?”
“I made mistakes,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know how to face you, how to fix things. But when I reached out to Benjamin about Darien, he told me you were my son, and no decent father disowns his own blood. And I realized…I need you in my life. I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”
Baran’s jaw tightened as he struggled to find the words. The wound his father had left behind felt raw again, but there was something in his father’s voice—earnestness, regret—that he couldn’t ignore.
“I don’t know if I can just forgive you,” Baran said finally, his voice low. “It’s not that simple.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’m not asking for that. But I’d like a chance to try. To prove I can do better.” His father reached for the bag he’d brought, pulling out a carefully wrapped box and handing it to Baran. “Here. I brought this for you.”
Baran hesitated before taking the box, unwrapping it slowly. Inside was a sleek briefcase. He glanced at his father questioningly before opening it.
Inside the briefcase was a check. Baran’s breath hitched when he saw the amount—it was enough to cover his tuition entirely.
“What…what is this?” Baran asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s for your education,” his father said simply. “I know it doesn’t make up for the years I wasn’t there, but I want to support you now, however I can.”
“I don’t need your money. Keep it for your retirement. Thank you for the briefcase. It has meaning to me.”
Baran stared at the check, a lump forming in his throat. He looked up at his father, his expression a mixture of confusion, anger, and something softer—hope, maybe.
“You didn’t have to do this.” He returned the check to his father.
“I wanted to,” his father replied. “Please, Baran. Let me be a part of your life again. You don’t have to decide now, but…think about it.”
Baran’s hands tightened around the briefcase. He didn’t know what to say. The emotions swirling inside him were too much, too complicated. But for the first time in years, he saw something in his father’s eyes he hadn’t seen before. Sincerity.
“Give me some time. I’ll think about it,” Baran said finally, his voice soft.
His father nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.” He got up and hugged Baran. “I’m proud of your accomplishments. I love you,” his father said.
“I love you too.”
Benjamin and Daddy Darien walked into the study and interrupted their hug.
“Is everything okay in here?” Benjamin asked.
“Yes, hopefully soon, we’ll be father and son again, as it should be.”
“Baran, is everything okay with you?” Daddy Darien asked.
“Yes.”
“I can’t stay. I’m flying to Italy to move your mother over here. I hope we’ll see each other when I return with her.” His father gave Baran another hug, then left.
