Chapter 28: Truths and Tensions

POV: Theo Sinclair

I knew this day was coming.

The call came that morning, my mother’s voice clipped and precise as ever. She and my father were in town for business and wanted to meet for dinner.

No, demanded was the better word.

“Darling, we’ve already made reservations,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Eight o’clock at The Whitmore.”

“Mom, I’m busy,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Nonsense. You’ll make time. We have things to discuss.”

I spent the day bracing myself for the encounter, my mood spiraling as the hours ticked by.

By the time Evelyn walked into the café that afternoon, her presence was both a relief and a reminder of how much she had become part of my routine.

“Hey,” she said softly as she approached the counter.

“Hey,” I replied, forcing a smile.

Her mismatched eyes searched mine, and I knew she could tell something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“My parents are in town,” I said, sighing.

Her brow furrowed. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“You’ve never met my parents,” I said dryly.

Evelyn leaned against the counter, her gaze steady. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Okay,” she said simply, surprising me.

Her lack of pressure was a relief. It was something I wasn’t used to—someone who gave me space without judgment or expectations.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be over there,” she said, gesturing to her usual spot by the window.

I nodded, watching as she walked away. A part of me wanted to follow her, to unload the weight of everything pressing down on me. But the other part—the part that had spent years keeping everything locked up—held me back.

Standing in front of my closet, I stared at the rows of suits, shirts, and ties, feeling an unease I hadn’t dealt with in years. Dinner with my parents. It wasn’t supposed to feel like climbing a mountain, but it did. Every memory of their expectations and their carefully measured words weighed heavily on my chest, tightening like a vice.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a slow breath, my mind drifting to Evelyn. Her mismatched eyes and fiery red hair. The way her laugh could cut through the darkest clouds, pulling light into places I’d long since thought were shadowed.

She had this presence about her—a quiet strength that made you believe anything was possible. That even the heaviest burdens could be carried, so long as you took them one step at a time.

I thought about the way she smiled when she wasn’t sure of herself, the way she leaned into me when she needed reassurance but never asked for it. Just the thought of her steadied me, as if her voice was right there, telling me I could handle this.

Pulling out a dark grey suit, I checked the fit in the mirror. My reflection stared back, but my mind was elsewhere. Evelyn. She made me want to be better—to try harder, to show up fully in ways I never had before.

The old me would’ve walked into this dinner guarded, expecting the worst. But now, I wanted to face it, to lay it all out there, because I knew there was someone who’d be waiting for me when it was over.

She made everything seem manageable—even a dinner with my parents.

I straightened the tie, smoothed my sleeves, and stood a little taller. For Evelyn. For me. For the life I was finally ready to build.

Dinner was exactly as uncomfortable as I’d expected.

The Whitmore was the kind of place my parents loved: elegant, expensive, and soulless. Victoria and Charles Sinclair were the picture of composure, their every word calculated.

“Theo,” my mother began as soon as the appetizers arrived, “it’s time we had a serious discussion about your future.”

I took a sip of my whiskey, already regretting agreeing to this. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“And we’ll keep having it until you come to your senses,” she said, her gaze sharp.

“This… little venture of yours,” my father added, gesturing vaguely. “It’s fine as a hobby, but it’s not a career.”

“A hobby?” I repeated, my voice colder than I intended.

“Yes,” my mother said, her tone dismissive. “You have a responsibility to the family, Theo. To the company.”

“I have a responsibility to myself,” I shot back, my jaw tightening.

My father sighed, shaking his head. “You’re wasting your potential. You’re better than this.”

“Better than what?” I snapped. “Better than doing something I actually care about? Better than being happy?”

My mother’s expression hardened. “This isn’t about your happiness. It’s about the legacy your grandfather built.”

The mention of my grandfather hit like a sucker punch. He had been the only one in the family who truly understood me, who had shared my love of books and stories. Losing him had changed everything.

“Let’s not pretend this café of yours is anything more than a childish hobby,” my father said, his tone cutting through the quiet like a blade. “You’re wasting your time, Theo. Wasting your life.”

I gripped the edge of the table, willing myself to stay calm. “It’s not a hobby,” I said evenly, though my voice was tight. “It’s a business. A successful one, by the way—something I built on my own. Without your help.”

“Successful?” My mother let out a cold laugh. “In a town no one even knows exists? Selling coffee and books to a handful of people? Please, Theo, you’re better than this.”

The words landed like a slap, but I refused to let them see the hurt. “Better than what? Being happy? Being independent? God forbid I do something I actually care about instead of living up to your ridiculous standards.”

“You call wasting your potential ‘independence’?” my father snapped, his voice rising. “You’re throwing away everything we’ve given you for some backwater fantasy. You’re a Sinclair. You’re supposed to be making real money, building real power—not playing barista.”

I barked out a laugh, shaking my head. “Real money? Real power? You mean being as miserable as you are? Working yourself to the bone for a family name no one outside your precious circles gives a damn about? Sounds like a dream.”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child,” my mother shot back, her grey eyes narrowing. “We gave you every opportunity to succeed, and this is how you repay us? By throwing a tantrum and running away to some nowhere town?”

“Running away?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You want to talk about running away? What about you? Where the hell were you when Alex ripped my heart out? When Vanessa was tearing us apart? Did either of you even think to check on me, or were you too busy hiding behind your precious business deals?”

“We assumed you were strong enough to handle it,” my father said, his jaw tightening. “Clearly, we were wrong.”

“That’s rich,” I shot back, leaning forward. “Coming from the man who hides behind a desk and a title because he’s too scared to face the fact that his own family is falling apart.”

My father’s hand slammed against the table, rattling the silverware. “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? Because it’s the truth?” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “You didn’t care about me when it mattered. You didn’t care about Alex. You only cared about the damn Sinclair name, and now you think you can lecture me about what I should be doing with my life?”

“You’re being ungrateful,” my mother hissed, her voice sharp. “Do you even understand the sacrifices we’ve made for you? For this family?”

“Ungrateful?” I repeated, laughing bitterly. “I’m ungrateful because I didn’t turn into the little puppet you wanted me to be? Newsflash: your sacrifices weren’t for me. They were for your image. So stop pretending this is about what’s best for me, because we both know it’s not.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, my parents’ faces a mixture of shock and anger. My mother opened her mouth to speak, but I stood before she could get the words out.

“This conversation is over,” I said, my voice cold and final. “You’ve made it clear what you think of me, and now you know what I think of you. I’m not coming back. Not to the business, and not to this.”

“Theo—” my father began, but I cut him off.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said, my tone clipped. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

I didn’t stop walking until I was outside, the cool night air biting against my skin.

The cold night air hit me like a slap as I left the restaurant, slamming the door behind me. My chest heaved with frustration, my hands trembling as I shoved them into my pockets. Their words replayed in my head like a broken record.

Ungrateful. Wasting your life. A hobby.

I walked down the sidewalk, my feet moving without direction as the city’s neon lights blurred around me. The noise of the world faded, drowned out by the argument echoing in my mind.

I stopped near a small park, leaning against a lamppost as I tried to calm the storm inside me. It wasn’t working. My parents’ voices lingered, every insult cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.

And then, like a lifeline breaking through the chaos, a single thought emerged.

Evelyn.

Her mismatched eyes, always filled with quiet strength. Her voice, steady and grounding, pulling me back when I was on the edge of losing myself.

I pulled out my phone before I could second-guess it, scrolling to her name in my contacts. My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, and then I hit the call button.

“Hey, you,” she answered after the first ring, her voice soft and familiar.

The tension in my shoulders eased instantly. “Hey,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, the concern in her tone unmistakable.

I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cold metal post. “Dinner with my parents… didn’t go well.”

She was quiet for a moment, letting me collect my thoughts. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“They don’t believe in me,” I said finally, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “In the café. In what I’m doing. They just see it as some… waste of time. And they still expect me to come back to the family business like nothing ever happened.”

Her sigh was soft but full of understanding. “Theo, you’ve built something incredible. Something meaningful. And just because they don’t see it doesn’t make it any less real.”

Her words settled over me, soothing the raw edges of my frustration.

“They didn’t even check on me after Alex,” I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. “After everything that happened. They just… didn’t care.”

“I care,” she said gently. “And so does everyone else who’s seen what you’ve built. Ryan, Mia, Alex—they all believe in you. I believe in you.”

The knot in my chest loosened, her words filling the spaces their rejection had carved out.

“I don’t deserve you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not true,” she said firmly. “You’re more than enough, Theo. Don’t let them take that from you.”

I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me. “Thank you, Evelyn. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out,” she replied softly.

For the first time that night, I felt the weight begin to lift. I stood straighter, the sharp cold biting at my skin no longer bothering me as much.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“I’ll be here,” she promised.

As I ended the call, the world felt a little less heavy, and I felt a little less alone.