Some conversations can't be avoided forever—eventually, you have to face what you've been running from.
Saturday morning arrived cold and gray, the sky promising snow that hadn't yet fallen.
Ethan met Vanessa at a small diner near campus at eight AM. She looked tired, her usual polish absent—hair in a simple ponytail, minimal makeup, wearing jeans and one of his hoodies that she'd borrowed weeks ago and never returned.
"Hi," she said, sliding into the booth across from him.
"Hi. How are you feeling?"
"Terrified. Nauseous. Like I'm walking into a trap." She attempted a smile. "So, normal."
The waitress came by and they ordered—pancakes for Ethan, just coffee for Vanessa.
"You should eat something," Ethan said.
"I can't. My stomach's in knots."
"What time are you leaving?"
"Eleven. My dad's sending a car." She saw Ethan's expression. "I know. I told him I could take the bus, but he insisted. Said he didn't want me traveling alone when I'm this stressed."
"That's... actually kind of thoughtful."
"He has his moments." Vanessa wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. "He texted me last night. Said my mom has agreed to see a therapist. Finally."
"That's good news."
"Yeah. Except she's only doing it because he threatened to move out if she didn't." Vanessa's voice was hollow. "So now she's in therapy, but she resents it. And resents him. And probably resents me for being the reason she needs it in the first place."
"You're not the reason—"
"I know. Logically, I know. But it doesn't feel that way."
Their food arrived. Ethan ate mechanically while Vanessa stared at her coffee.
"What are you going to say to her?" Ethan asked.
"I don't know. I've been rehearsing in my head all week, but everything sounds wrong." She looked at him. "What if she asks me to end things with you?"
"What will you say?"
"No. Obviously no. But—" Vanessa's voice cracked. "What if she breaks down completely? What if saying no pushes her over the edge?"
"Then that's on her, not you. Her mental health is not your responsibility to manage."
"Everyone keeps saying that. You, my dad, Sophie. But she's my *mother*, Ethan. If something happens to her because I chose you over her peace of mind—"
"Stop." Ethan reached across the table and took her hand. "Listen to me. Your mother's mental health issues existed long before me. They'll exist whether we're together or not. You staying with me isn't causing her breakdown—her refusal to deal with her trauma is."
"I know you're right. But knowing and feeling are different things."
"I know." He squeezed her hand. "Just promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise me you won't make any decisions this weekend based on guilt or fear. If you decide something about us, let it be because it's what you actually want. Not what she wants. Not what you think will fix her. What *you* want."
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears. "What I want is for this to be easy. For my mom to be healthy and supportive. For you and me to just be together without all this drama."
"I want that too. But that's not our reality right now."
"I know." She wiped her eyes. "God, I'm so tired of crying."
"You're going through something hard. Crying is allowed."
"I feel like that's all I do lately. Cry and worry and feel guilty."
"Then maybe this weekend, you try something different."
"Like what?"
"Like standing your ground. Like telling your mother the truth—that you love her, but you also love me, and you're not choosing between those things." Ethan's voice was firm. "You're allowed to have both."
"What if she says I can't?"
"Then she's wrong."
Vanessa stared at him for a long moment. "How are you so calm about this?"
"I'm not calm. I'm terrified. But one of us has to be steady right now, and you're falling apart. So I'm choosing to be steady."
"What happens when you fall apart?"
"Then you catch me. That's how this works."
She laughed—wet and shaky, but real. "I love you."
"I love you too. Now drink your coffee and try to eat something. You're going to need your strength."
At 10:45, a sleek black car pulled up outside Vanessa's dorm.
Ethan walked her out, carrying her overnight bag.
"Call me when you get there?" he said.
"I will."
"And tonight. Even if it's late."
"I promise." She hugged him tightly. "Thank you. For breakfast. For listening. For being you."
"That's kind of my specialty."
She kissed him—long and desperate, like she was trying to memorize the feeling.
When she pulled away, her eyes were bright with tears again. "What if this goes badly?"
"Then you come back tomorrow and we figure it out. Together."
"There's that word again."
"It's our word now."
She smiled, got into the car, and was gone.
Ethan stood on the sidewalk, watching the taillights disappear, feeling the weight of worry settle over him like a blanket.
The rest of Saturday passed in a blur of distraction.
Ethan tried to study, but his mind kept wandering. He went to the community center for a few hours, helping Miguel and the other kids with their coding projects. Mrs. Chen noticed his distraction but didn't comment, just squeezed his shoulder supportively when he left.
He worked the evening shift at Harlow's, grateful for the busy Saturday night crowd that kept his hands and mind occupied.
His phone stayed silent until 9:47 PM.
Vanessa: Just got here. My mom is... composed. Too composed. Like she's been rehearsing.
Ethan: How are you holding up?
Vanessa: Okay so far. Dad pulled me aside and said to stay calm no matter what she says. That's not ominous at all.
Ethan: Remember what we talked about. Stand your ground.
Vanessa: I will. I'll call you after dinner. Love you.
Ethan: Love you too.
The next text didn't come until after midnight.
Ethan was already home, lying in bed, phone on his chest, waiting.
When it buzzed, he answered immediately.
"Hey. How did it go?"
Silence on the other end. Then, quietly: "Can you talk?"
"Of course. Are you okay?"
"No." Her voice was thick with tears. "Ethan, it was—she was—"
"Breathe. Just breathe. What happened?"
"She was so calm. So rational. Like she'd prepared this whole speech." Vanessa took a shaky breath. "She said she understands that I care about you. That she can see you're a good person. But that she's worried I'm making decisions based on rebellion instead of reason."
"Okay..."
"Then she said she wants me to take a break. From us. Just for a month or two. To 'clear my head' and 'gain perspective.'" Vanessa's voice broke. "She said if I really love you, a break won't change that. But if I'm just caught up in the romance of it all, the distance will make me see clearly."
Ethan felt something cold settle in his stomach. "What did you say?"
"I said no. That I'm not taking a break. That I love you and I'm not going to play games to prove it to her."
"How did she react?"
"She started crying. Said I was choosing you over her. Over the family. That she can't watch me throw my life away and that if I won't listen to reason, she'll have to protect me from myself."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. My dad stepped in and told her she was being unreasonable. They started arguing. About me, about you, about her therapy, about everything." Vanessa sobbed. "It was horrible, Ethan. They were screaming at each other. My mom was saying my dad was enabling me, and he was saying she was trying to control me because she couldn't control herself—"
"Jesus, Vanessa—"
"I left. I just—I couldn't listen anymore. I'm in my room now. I can still hear them downstairs." She was crying so hard she could barely speak. "This is all my fault. I'm tearing my family apart."
"No. You're not. Your mother's illness is tearing your family apart. You're just refusing to sacrifice yourself to hold it together."
"But what if that's what I'm supposed to do? What if being a good daughter means—"
"Stop. Right now." Ethan's voice was firm. "Being a good daughter does not mean destroying your own happiness to manage your mother's mental illness. That's not love. That's codependency."
Vanessa went quiet.
"Are you still there?" Ethan asked.
"Yeah. I'm here." She took a shaky breath. "My dad just knocked on my door. He wants to talk."
"Okay. Call me after?"
"It's so late—"
"I don't care. Call me. I need to know you're okay."
"Okay. I love you."
"I love you too."
The call ended, and Ethan lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, his chest tight with worry.
Down the hall, he heard his mother coughing—the deep, rattling kind that she tried to hide during the day.
Everything was falling apart.
And he had no idea how to stop it.
Vanessa called back at 1:30 AM.
"Hey," Ethan answered immediately. "What did your dad say?"
"That he's sorry. That my mom is getting worse, not better. That the therapist she's seeing isn't working and he's trying to find her someone else." Vanessa sounded exhausted. "He said I should come home tomorrow as planned. That staying longer will just make things worse."
"Do you want to stay?"
"No. God, no. I want to get out of here."
"Then come home. I'll meet you at the bus station."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to. What time does your bus get in?"
"Two PM."
"I'll be there."
"Thank you." She paused. "Ethan?"
"Yeah?"
"She's not going to stop. My mom. She's going to keep pushing and manipulating and trying to break us up. You know that, right?"
"I know."
"Are you prepared for that? Because it's going to get worse before it gets better."
"I know that too."
"And you still want this? Want us?"
"Vanessa." Ethan's voice was steady. "There is nothing your mother can do that will make me walk away from you. Nothing. Do you understand?"
She started crying again. "I don't deserve you."
"Yes, you do. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow you come home and we figure out the next step."
"Together?"
"Always together."
Sunday morning, Ethan woke to voices in the kitchen.
He checked his phone—8:15 AM. He'd slept through his alarm.
He got up and walked into the kitchen to find his mother sitting at the table with Lily, a letter in her hand.
Both of them looked serious.
"What's going on?" Ethan asked.
His mother looked up, and he saw fear in her eyes. "The doctor's office sent my test results. They came in the mail yesterday. I just opened them."
Ethan's blood ran cold. "And?"
"My levels are elevated again. Significantly. They want me to come in for more comprehensive testing." Her voice was shaking. "Ethan, they think the cancer might be coming back."
The world tilted.
Lily was already crying. His mother looked pale and terrified.
And all Ethan could think was: Not now. Please, not now.
But cancer didn't care about timing.
It never did.