I set my pen down, letting the words settle on the page.
Maybe life wasn't about choosing between fire and calm… but learning which warmth lets you grow, and which heat scorches your roots.
Just then, my phone buzzed. Saraph.
"Nuella? Where are you?
I've been looking everywhere," she said, her voice a mix of teasing and concern.
"I'm… just in my room," I replied, keeping it casual.
"Uh-huh," she laughed.
"Sure.
You've been avoiding me all day. What's going on? You sound… distracted."
I paused, staring at the ceiling again.
How could I explain?
Daniel. Jace. Both of them filling my thoughts in ways I wasn't ready to sort through.
"Complicated," I admitted finally.
"Of course," she said with a knowing laugh.
"Just… don't forget to come out later. Life doesn't wait, Nuella."
"I won't forget," I promised.
After we hung up, I let the silence stretch out around me.
The room felt smaller somehow, the air thicker with thoughts I didn't want to untangle.
Eventually, I pushed myself up and moved through my evening routine slowly, almost mechanically.
I brushed my hair, watching my reflection in the mirror, searching for something in my own eyes.
Certainty, maybe. Clarity.
I washed my face, the cool water grounding me.
Slipped into something comfortable.
Turned off the bright overhead light and left only the soft bedside lamp glowing faintly in the corner.
When I finally sank onto my bed, the mattress dipped gently beneath me.
The familiar hum of the fan filled the quiet, steady and soothing.
For a moment, the world felt still.
No decisions.
No expectations.
Just the soft rhythm of air moving through the room.
I reached for my phone again, scrolling absentmindedly through messages, notifications, reminders, until I found the contact I'd been meaning to call all evening.
Mom
I hesitated for just a second before pressing dial.
"Hey, Mom," I murmured as I dialed her number.
"Nuella! How's my girl?" Her cheerful voice spilled through the speaker, warm and familiar in a way nothing else ever was.
A smile tugged at my lips instantly.
"I'm okay," I said. "Just finished with classes. Thought I'd check in."
"You always make me feel better when you call,"
she said. "So, how's everything? College life treating you?"
I laughed softly.
I shifted onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest.
"It's… busy," I admitted. "But I'm managing. Classes are fine. Just trying to keep up with everything."
"And are you eating properly?" she asked immediately, her tone switching into that gentle motherly concern I knew by heart.
Yes, Mom," I laughed softly.
"And resting?"
"Remember to eat well and get some rest," she said, the motherly concern always there beneath her lighthearted tone.
"I will," I promised.
"I'm about to sleep soon."
"And drinking enough water?"
"Okay, okay," I teased. "I promise I'm taking care of myself."
"Actually, I made tea just now, sitting here before bed.
"That's my girl," she said warmly. "Peace before sleep is important."
It's the little things, you know?"
She chuckled.
"Good girl. Those little things matter.
Even when life gets busy, you take care of yourself, alright?"
"I'm trying," I said quietly, letting her words settle in.
There was something about her voice that always made me feel smaller, not in a bad way, but in a safe way.
Like I could rest from pretending to have everything figured out.
"I just… missed you."
"You'll see me soon," she said. "Don't worry. I'm always just a call away."
I smiled, feeling the warmth of home even from a distance.
I took a shaky breath. "Can I… talk to him?"
There was a pause... "He's asleep."
"Asleep?"
"Yes, sweetheart. He was tired."
I checked the time instinctively.
"He… he never sleeps early. Especially not by this time," I whispered.
There was a faint rustling sound on her end of the call.
"Tonight he needed rest. He'll talk to you when he's awake," my mom said gently.
I nodded slowly, even though she couldn't see me.
"Oh. Okay."
Why did that feel… off?
Maybe I was overthinking.
Maybe he really was just tired.
Maybe I was the one creating distance where there wasn't any.
Still, something tugged at me.
After we said our goodnights, after the "sleep well" and the "I love you" I ended the call and stared at the dark screen for a long moment.
The room felt quieter than before.
The fan still hummed. Nothing had changed.
And yet something inside me felt unsettled.
If he's not angry… why does it feel like he is?
Why hasn't he called in weeks?
Why does he always seem… distant?
The thought came uninvited, quiet and sharp.
Is he really my father?
I squeezed my eyes shut immediately.
Of course he is.
What kind of thought is that?
I almost felt guilty for even thinking it.
I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket up slightly.
He had raised me.
Taught me how to ride a bike. Helped me with homework.
Carried me on his shoulders when I was too tired to walk.
So why did doubt creep in now?
I exhaled slowly, staring at the faint shadow of the ceiling fan spinning above me.
Maybe he's just tired.
Maybe I'm just sensitive.
Maybe I miss home more than I want to admit.
My tea had gone cold on the bedside table. I reached over and took a small sip anyway, letting the bitterness sit on my tongue.
Fire.
Calm.
Distance.
Warmth.
Life didn't always give you clear answers.
Sometimes it just handed you quiet nights and left you alone with your thoughts.
The day was done.
The conversations were over.
And though questions lingered at the edges of my mind, exhaustion slowly pulled me under.
For now, everything felt a little lighter.
Not solved.
Not certain.
Just… softer.
And maybe that was enough for tonight.