I slowly wander over, and he glances over his shoulder as I’m halfway across, his expression lost for a second.
“Antonia,” he says, taking my hand. “Are you here visiting Mikey?”
“Yes,” I say. “And you… Bex?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s…” His words trail off, silence falling between us.
“I’ll leave you alone,” I say, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding.
“No, please. Come sit.”
He spots my chair, walks back to Mikey’s grave, then carries it over beside him.
“We can sit together,” he says. “Bex won’t mind. She always told me I should move on after she’s gone. And I know she’d love you.”
I hesitate. This is him inviting me into his life in a way I never imagined.
“Come,” he says softly. “I’d love to introduce you to her.”
So we stand together, and he pours me a cup of coffee into the lid of his flask.
I laugh. “We’re more alike than you realize.”
“I suppose so,” he says. “We’ve both been dealing with a lot of the same.”
We stand quietly for a moment, both looking at the headstone.
“You know,” he says, “I’ve not told you much about Bex.”
“No. And I suppose I haven’t told you much about Mikey.”
“It’s strange how sometimes it’s easier to pack those things away.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Memories that bring comfort. But also pain.”
“I’d love to know more about her,” I tell him. He looks at me, unsure, then takes another gulp as if buying himself time. “Please… tell me about her.”
There’s still a hesitation. His jaw opens and closes as if trying to speak but failing. Eventually, he takes a breath.
“We were friends in school,” he says. “Nothing really happened between us then. But in our early twenties, we got together for a few months. It was amazing. You know that early love?”
I nod. “I do.”
“Yeah, it didn’t last,” he continues. “I made the wrong choice. Many of them.” He glances at the headstone, then the flowers at the base. “Then, years later, I saw Bex outside the school gates, with a little boy who looked just like me… I don’t know how I didn’t have a heart attack.”
I laugh out loud. “That can’t be true.”
“It is. Trust me.” He shakes his head. “I’m not proud of the man I was back then. Not in my twenties, thirties, or even my early forties. Though I like to think I put some of it right.”
He’s sharing this with me here, in one of the most private places he has. The doctor. The father. Each layer is strippedaway, showing me the broken man underneath. The one with flaws.
“I think everyone deserves a second chance,” I say quietly. “I wasn’t the best mother.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “I was always busy. Always working. Before Opengate, when I worked for someone else. I was back at work within weeks of Mikey’s birth. I couldn’t imagine being a full-time mum. Didn’t want to be.”
Back then, all I’d worried about was career development. A bigger car. A nicer house.
“Looking back now… I wish I’d taken a few more months. A few more days. Because I missed so much. And then we lost him…” The words cut off, and Ben squeezes my hand.
“I know,” he says softly. “There are always regrets. But we can’t let them carve out our future. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been there. At some point, you have to decide to move past them.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, him holding my hands, me clinging to his.