The confrontation happened three days after Mom returned.
The tension in the house had become unbearable. Vincent and I stole desperate glances and quick touches whenever Mom wasn’t looking, but it wasn’t enough. I felt like I was drowning in guilt and longing.
That evening, after dinner, Mom went upstairs to take a call. Vincent looked at me across the table, his eyes dark with decision.
“Enough,” he said quietly. “We need to talk to her.”
My heart pounded. “Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
When Mom came back down, Vincent asked her to sit. His voice was steady but gentle as he told her the truth. Not every detail, but enough. That he had fallen in love with me. That what started as a connection had become something deeper. That he was sorry for hurting her.
Mom stared at us in shock, then ang
