an evening with the rush hour hero

The rain drummed softly against the window of my apartment as I stared at its reflection on the glass. The city lights shimmered, blurred by the droplets sliding down, as if the world outside were an unfinished watercolor painting. I held a wine glass by the stem, swirling the ruby liquid out of habit. Not that I was savoring the wine - it had been a long time since anything had tasted like anything to me.

I shouldn't have been thinking about the past. The past was buried. Or at least it should have been. But even now, with a life that could be considered successful by any standard, those memories insisted on haunting me.

The insistent ringing of my phone broke me out of my reverie. I walked over to the table and picked up the device, seeing my mother's name on the screen. I let out a deep sigh before answering.

"Are you listening?" Her voice was firm, carrying that tone of authority she always had. "I need you to come home."

I hadn't expected that. It had been years since my presence was requested in my hometown. Since leaving, I had promised myself I would never go back. But my mother wasn't the kind of person who easily accepted "no" for an answer.

"Why?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"Your sister is getting married. And you know how important this is for the family. You have to be here."

My throat tightened. Lyara's wedding. Of course. Another grand event where she would be the center of attention, while I remained in the shadows, as always. But something in my mother's tone left no room for refusal.

"Fine," I replied, even though every fiber of my being screamed against it. "I'll make arrangements to come."

When the call ended, I let out a long sigh. The thought of returning to that place made me nauseous, but at the same time, some part of me knew it was inevitable. No one truly escapes their past.

The night dragged on as I tried to steer my thoughts elsewhere. The silence of the apartment offered little comfort. The sound of the rain continued to fill the space, but it couldn't drown out the restlessness growing inside me. I got up, walked to the kitchen, and washed the wine glass, trying to occupy my hands and mind with any trivial task.

The reflection of the city lights accompanied me. Life here had been a successful escape, at least on the surface. I made friends, built a career, reinvented myself. But there was still a part of me tethered to the roots I had worked so hard to forget. My mother's call was a reminder that those ties still existed, no matter how much I pretended they didn't.