Page 103 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
The way she said it reminded me of our childhood. No matter how bad things got, Maya always said something like that—don't worry, I'll figure it out. She'd always been the caretaker, making rational decisions even when she could barely stand.
It was her pride, her dignity.
"Okay," I gave in. "But we should at least stock up at the store. That's not wasteful. Lucas is coming soon. I want to cook him a proper dinner—make it myself—his first night here."
Maya set down her knife. The smile faded from her face, replaced by something stern I'd never seen before. She pulled a napkin from the holder, carefully wiped the crumbs from her hands, then looked me dead in the eye.
"Ella, I've been meaning to talk to you."
I stared at her, a knot forming in my stomach.
"Lucas dropping everything and following you to Rochester for love—sure, it sounds romantic. But..." Maya's words came slowly, carefully chosen. "Have you thought about what happens to Rockefeller Manor in Manhattan? What about his grandfather, who's over eighty? What about the hundreds of thousands of employees counting on him to make decisions?"
I froze.
"Professional managers can handle a lot, but they can't replace Lucas," Maya said, regret in her voice. "Ella, you know what I've been seeing lately? Since Lucas went back to Manhattan, he's all over the financial news again. Those Wall Street analysts—they're calling him the best of his generation."
She paused, genuine admiration in her eyes. "He was born for that stage. Now he's willing to give it all up for you andthe baby. That's precious, sure, but... It's like a master painter breaking his brushes. Would you see that as proof of love, or would you just feel sorry?"
Cold crept up my spine. I'd never looked at it that way. I'd been so wrapped up in the joy of him changing for me that I'd ignored what he was abandoning.
Maya was right.
I'd only thought about my feelings, about Lucas finally choosing to be with me. To live the life I wanted. But I'd never truly considered what it cost him.
The Rockefeller Group was generations of his family's blood and sweat. Lucas had been groomed as heir since childhood—it was his mission, his entire life built around that empire. Now he was handing it all over to someone else just to be here for my pregnancy.
That wasn't fair to him.
"Then..." I hesitated, my voice rough. "What if you come back to Manhattan with me? If we go back to the manor, he won't have to give up his work. And you'd get better care."
Maya laughed softly, relief in the sound.
"See, Ella? You already know the answer," she said, walking to the window and gazing at the street below. "You never really wanted to leave Lucas. You never wanted your child to be without his father. If you've decided to forgive him, then you should go back where you belong—not drag him to this remote little city and pretend otherwise."
"What about you?" I asked urgently. "If you don't come with me, how can I leave you alone?"
"I'm better, Ella," Maya turned, sunlight outlining her features, her eyes blazing. "I can take care of myself. I can find work again, even if I start from the bottom. As for you, stop using me as an excuse. Even sisters have to separate eventually. You can't spend your whole life clinging to my sleeve."
Tears spilled down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I'd never been apart from my sister. Even in the hardest times, we'd survived together. Now she was sending me away.
"Don't cry, what are you, five?" Maya came over, wiping my tears with her thumb. "All that work I did—nearly killed myself doing it—was so you could find real happiness. Now you have. I can finally let go. Time for me to find my own happiness, Ella."
I caught something in her tone—not just relief, but anticipation.
"Maya, are you keeping something from me?" I grabbed her sleeve. "Did you meet someone?"
Maya's eyes sparkled mischievously. She pulled away, heading for the living room.
"Too early to say," she said vaguely, gathering prenatal books from the couch. "Now go study for your nursing exam instead of stalking me. Time to grow up."
That whole night, I tossed and turned, Maya's words churning in my head. She was right—compared to what Lucas had sacrificed, I'd given so little. I'd been hiding in my shell like a victim, waiting for him to knock, waiting for him to beg.
If I'd truly decided to give him a chance, I should be brave enough to take the first step.
I rolled over, hand on my belly. The baby moved, as if answering my thoughts.
The next morning, like always, I left my phone by the pillow and propped myself against the headboard with a nursing textbook, waiting for Lucas's morning call. Our ritual for the past month.
