Why lie?

I entered the building, familiar faces greeting me as I made my way through the lobby. The receptionist, who knew me from the countless times my mom had brought me here in the past, waved me through without needing an appointment. It felt strange being back after so long—like stepping into a time warp where everything was the same, yet everything had changed.

My mom's office was on the 20th floor, so I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button and watching the numbers climb. As the doors opened, I stepped out and walked down the hallway. People were busy at their desks, typing away or talking on phones. I moved toward my mom’s chamber at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar.

Just as I was about to push it open, I heard her voice, and my dad’s name stopped me in my tracks.

“Robert, please!” my mom’s tone was pleading, a sound I wasn’t used to hearing from her. I froze, narrowing my eyes, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Why was she pleading with my dad? What could have happened?

"I can't do this, try to understand," she continued, her voice tight with frustration.

I pressed my ear closer to the door, straining to hear more. Was my dad asking for money again? It wouldn’t have been the first time, but there was something different in her voice. Then, I heard her say something that made my stomach tighten.

"Okay, tell me the address."

An address? What was going on? My heart raced as I tried to piece it together.

At that moment, I decided to stop eavesdropping and stepped into the room. My mom’s eyes widened in surprise, her expression shifting from shock to a forced smile as she quickly hung up the call.

“Isabella!” she stammered, clearly flustered. “You! What a surprise, honey! Don’t you have classes? Or is it all over?”

I could see the nervousness in her eyes, something she was trying hard to hide. But I knew my mom well enough to see through her façade.

“I… I wasn’t feeling well,” I lied, still trying to process what I’d overheard. “So I thought I’d come see you.”

I looked around her desk, trying to read between the lines of her carefully composed expression. “Are you okay, Mom?” I asked, hoping to catch some glimpse of what was really going on behind those eyes.

She suddenly gave me a normal look, as if everything was perfectly fine. “Of course,” she replied, her tone light, as she sat down at her desk. But I could tell she was changing the subject. “So, tell me, did you attend class or leave?”

I took a seat across from her, feeling the heaviness in my chest. “Yes, I did,” I replied, my voice carrying the weight of everything I wasn’t saying. “I did your boyfriend's class.” I looked up at her, watching for any reaction.

She smiled slightly, as if amused by my words. “He is so skillful, right?” she said, leaning back in her chair.

I sighed, thinking back to the class I barely paid attention to. “Every girl was checking him out in class,” I muttered, almost to myself, though I knew she could hear me.

Mom laughed lightly, waving it off. “Isn’t it normal for a handsome man?” she said, as if this was just another casual conversation.

I didn’t respond, my thoughts swirling. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I was holding back. I didn’t know how to tell her that I wasn’t comfortable in his college, that I didn’t want to continue taking his classes. But I was still processing the fact that she seemed completely unfazed by everything I’d seen and felt.

“He does part-time lectures there,” she continued, her tone still light. “I think you’ll get his class sometimes.”

“Mom…” I started, but the words got stuck in my throat. How could I tell her that I didn’t want to be in his college, that I wasn’t interested in his classes?

"I’m not sure if I want to stay in his college,” I finally said, my voice softer than I intended.

She looked at me, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Why not, Isabella? It’s a great opportunity for you, and he’s an excellent professor.”

I looked down at my hands, fiddling with a loose thread on my sleeve. “I just… I’m not comfortable there, that’s all,” I mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

“Isabella, it’s a prestigious college,” Mom started, her tone growing firmer. “And I could only admit you there because Ezekiel was in charge. Otherwise, I couldn’t have done it. Do you know how many people are dying to get in?”

Her words struck a chord. She was right; the opportunity to attend such a college wasn’t something to take lightly. But I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at me.

I noticed how she didn’t react when she saw me earlier, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with my dad. She seemed a bit more anxious than usual, maybe because of whatever she was discussing with him.

I rolled my eyes slightly, trying to defuse the situation. “Okay, forget it,” I muttered. “I’m not talking about that.”

I glanced at her face, searching for any signs of what might be bothering her. “Can I stay here for a bit?” I asked, hoping to spend more time with her.

Mom arched her brows, a hint of disappointment flickering across her face. She responded in a calm tone, “I’m going to a meeting, Isabella.”

“Meeting?” I repeated, curious.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

I stood up from my seat, tilting my head slightly. “Where?”

“Umm… here. I’ll be back tonight,” Mom said, but there was something off about her tone. I knew she wasn’t being entirely honest. She was going to meet Dad; I could tell.

I decided not to push it. “So, does your boyfriend know?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Umm… no, I’ll tell him later, so don’t worry about it,” she said, brushing off the question.

“Do you want to go home? I can tell the driver to take you,” she offered.

“No, Mom. Actually, I want to walk around,” I replied. “I just want to enjoy the city. I can book a cab or call your boyfriend.”

Mom smiled slightly at my suggestion, and we both made our way out of her office together.