In the weeks that followed Tina's visit, Jay found himself unable to shake the weight of their conversation. Her words, delivered with unwavering determination, had carved a place in his mind like an indelible mark. Her challenge had cut through the layers of emotional detachment he had so carefully cultivated over the years. It had been a stark reminder that there was more to life than the relentless pursuit of his legal career. She had urged him to reconsider his chosen path, to confront the emptiness that threatened to consume him.

In response to this inner turmoil, Jay had thrown himself even deeper into his work, as if the intricacies of the courtroom could serve as a refuge from the questions that lingered in the recesses of his mind. The legal battles he fought were a form of solace, a way to channel his energy into something concrete and tangible.

Yet, as he delved further into his cases, he couldn't escape the truth that Tina's words had unearthed. The disquiet remained, an unsettling reminder that there was a part of him yearning for more, even if he hadn't quite figured out what that "more" entailed. As a result, he grew even more annoyed with himself.

And there was another issue lurking beneath the surface. Jay was acutely aware of the weight of his mother's name, Margaret Anderson, a name synonymous with pioneering strides in civil rights and constitutional law. It was a legacy that cast a long shadow, one he was determined to step out from under.

Jay refused to rely on her formidable connection. He was resolute in his desire to carve his own path and move to prosecution based on his merit, not his lineage. Yet, the expectations placed upon him as his mother's son were a constant pressure, an invisible weight on his shoulders.

In search of respite from everything, Jay found himself in a dimly lit bar tucked away from the prying eyes of the city. It was a place where he could momentarily shed the weight of expectations, even if just for a few hours. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a comforting backdrop as he sat at the polished wooden bar.

Without a word, the bartender placed a glass of his favourite whisky in front of him. Jay smiled in acknowledgement. Seconds later, a familiar burn traversed through his throat, a perfect way to soften the edges of his thoughts, to blur the lines of responsibility that had been etched deeply into his psyche.

As the night wore on, the faces around him blurred into an indistinct crowd. Conversations faded into background noise, and the weight of his thoughts lifted, if only temporarily. Jay knew the game well, and he played it expertly for years. He engaged in brief conversations, shared smirks and laughter, and allowed himself to be drawn into the dance of attraction.

It was a familiar ritual, a way to momentarily forget the expectations that loomed over him. A stranger's touch, a stolen kiss, and then, like a ghost in the night, he vanished from their lives as quickly as he had entered.

And then, like the countless times before, he woke up in a hotel room, the details hazy and indistinct. The man beside him was a mere blur, a faceless figure in the dimly lit room. Jay's indifference was palpable; he neither knew nor cared about his name. It was just another fleeting, meaningless encounter. It didn't matter; it never did.

The late evening had cast a sombre hue over the office. Jay sat behind his desk, bathed in the soft glow of an elegant lamp that scattered tendrils of light across the dimly lit room. Papers and legal documents were strewn haphazardly before him, each one a puzzle piece in the case he was painstakingly piecing together.

His once impeccably knotted tie now hung loosely around his neck, a subtle sign of the long hours he had devoted to his work. His charismatic and sharp features were framed by an undercut hairstyle, the dark, longish strands on top giving out a young, distinctive vibe, especially when he ran his fingers through them.

His gaze remained fixed on the myriad details before him, his eyes bearing the weight of fatigue. He had a trial tomorrow, and although the case itself was not particularly challenging, the nuances demanded his undivided attention. He was dedicated to his craft; even the most seemingly minor intricacies held significance, as one misstep could change someone's life forever.

Jay's motivation was clear. He aimed to build a successful portfolio as soon as possible and move on to prosecution, and for that, he could not afford a single failure, no matter how seemingly insignificant the case might be. It was his way of proving to himself that he was more than just his mother's son - that he could achieve his goals through his own skill and determination.

There was a sudden knock at the door, followed by his mother's voice announcing her entry. Jay, weary but composed, ran his thumb and index finger through his eyes and shifted his gaze towards the door. Margaret Anderson wore a faint smile as she entered her son's office. It was a smile she should have worn more often during his childhood and showed him that she cared about him. Unfortunately, she made different choices and now had to live with consequences.

It wasn't surprising to see him here at such a late hour. She had long grown accustomed to his workaholic tendencies. Yet, she also knew better than to attempt any form of parental guidance now. The time he needed her had passed, and his usual indifferent gaze reaffirmed her suspicions.

"I thought I may still catch you here."

As always, her tone, a blend of motherly concern and professional courtesy, was met with a measured, distant, yet polite voice.

"I have to finish a few things before tomorrow's trial," he replied. "Did you need something?"

She approached his desk, her eyes scanning the scattered papers and documents. "I won't keep you long. Rebecca's memo from today mistakingly included something for you," she started, producing a neatly written note. "Apparently, one of your old friends contacted us today, trying to reach you. They insisted on getting your personal contact information, but she rebounded them and got their details instead. Rebecca assumed your friend would have means of contacting you via standard channels. Either way, it sounded urgent."

"Well, she is right," Jay commented, tossing the note to the basket with unimportant things without sparing it a glance. "Anyway, I'm too busy to deal with it now."

Margaret nodded, her smile taking on a tinge of sadness. "I understand," she said softly. "Jay... I know I'm not in a position to say anything, but I highly recommend you reconsider taking a gap year and finding a way to balance your life better. You don't want to become like the person who disappointed you the most."

As Margaret's footsteps receded down the corridor and the office door closed softly behind her, Jay was left alone in the dimly lit room. His gaze was fixed on the legal documents scattered across his desk, but his thoughts remained with his mother's words.

His fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the polished wooden surface, manifesting the turmoil within. His mother had struck a chord, and the echoes of her concern reverberated through his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was right in some way, even though he was unwilling to admit it.

With a heavy sigh, Jay finally pushed his work aside and leaned back in his leather chair. He ran his hand through his hair. The soft, dark strands slipped through his fingers, falling back into place. The warm glow of the desk lamp illuminated his face, revealing a hint of the turmoil beneath his composed exterior.

Unable to reach a conclusion, Jay picked up his phone and, despite the late hour, sent a message to Tina.

Me

Do I resemble my mother?

Christina Charlotte Emilia

What the fuck?!

Is this your idea of a joke?

Or are you drunk?

Me

I'm not drunk.

Just asking.

Christina Charlotte Emilia

Well, that came out of nowhere...

Are you having an existential crisis in the middle of the night?

Me

What?!

No!

Maybe?

She mentioned a gap year again.

According to her, I need a better balance in life if I don't want to become like the person who disappointed me the most.

I presume she spoke about herself.

Christina Charlotte Emilia

...

Oh, fuck!

I never thought I would say it

At least not in this lifetime

Or any other

But... I need to agree with her.

Urgh...

That left a bad taste in my mouth.

Me

Thanks.

Christina Charlotte Emilia

There's no need for sarcasm, asshole!

I wouldn't say you are like her, but probably well on the way?

Me

Is it really that bad?

Christina Charlotte Emilia

Duh!

Let me summarise your life: work and casual sex.

Oh, wait, I forgot whisky!

Maybe climbing?

And did I mention work?

Me

Yes, twice... point taken.

Christina Charlotte Emilia

So?

Are you going to do this?

I could tag along for a bit if you need

Me

Dunno.

I'm busy with work.

Christina Charlotte Emilia

Oh, for fuck's sake!

Now you even sound like her!

Me

🙄

Christina Charlotte Emilia

I told you, you can't live like this.

How much of yourself do you lose every time you wake up at a hotel?

You can't possibly think this is fine.

That you are fine.

Jay?

Stop ignoring me, you fucking obtuse asshole!

Jay lightly tossed his phone onto his desk and let out a long sigh. Tina's words hit their mark, and the uncomfortable truth was sinking in. Hearing from her that he did seem to resemble the only person he didn't want to end up like was hard to swallow. It had slowly become clear that he could not continue down this rather self-destructive path, but the question lingered: What else was he supposed to do? Settling down with someone, falling in love - it all sounded like the most absurd idea to him. Yet, Tina was right again... each time he woke up in a hotel room with a random guy, the void inside seemed to expand.

With a sense of resignation, Jay collected the documents related to his trial, tucking them neatly into his briefcase.

"I so hate it when she's right," he muttered to himself with a trace of amusement.

As he made his way out of the office building towards a waiting taxi, his phone buzzed with a text message. It was a flight itinerary. A small smile played on his lips. No matter what, he could always count on her.

As a result, he made a detour to pick up that unfortunate rum on the way home.

The morning sun bathed the penthouse in a warm, golden glow, flooding it with light. Yet, even this radiant display couldn't dispel the pervasive silence in the air. If not for empty bottles of whisky and rum on the coffee table in the spacious living room, accompanied by two glasses and leftovers of their snacks, the penthouse would seemed eerily abandoned and forlorn.

Even the light footsteps in the hallway seemed to blend with overbearing quietness. Despite his half-asleep state, his bare feet moved with practised ease over wooden floors. His dark brown hair could be described as an artistic mess, which became more prominent when Jay ran his hand through it. As always, he wore only long pyjama trousers, which rested slightly below his waistline. His upper body, toned and well-defined, created a perfect balance between slenderness and muscles. His brown eyes swept over the living room with a sense of weariness, deciding that he could clean it later.

Jay's tall figure moved gracefully into the kitchen, his steps almost on autopilot. He switched on the kettle with a soft click and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. While waiting for the water to boil, he stood in front of the tea cupboard, its shelves lined with a wide selection of green and white teas, each neatly arranged in labelled containers. His contemplative gaze drifted over the assortment as he was deciding which one he felt like drinking today.

Tina's groggy voice, still heavy with sleep, caught his attention. She leaned against the kitchen island, her chin resting on her palm, her eyes following Jay's tea-selection ritual with a hint of amusement.

"You know, Jay," she began, her tone playfully teasing. "I get that tea is practically in our DNA, but your obsession with it takes it to another level."

He turned around and leaned back on the counter with his eyebrow raised questioningly.

Tina laughed, shaking her head. "What you really need is a coffee machine. It would save you so much time in the mornings."

His eyebrow raised even higher as he shot her a mockingly incredulous look. "Over my dead body."

"Well, we can arrange that," she quipped back with a playful smile, yet her gaze remained tinged with worry. "So, what did you decide?" she asked, spreading jam over their toasts.

Jay sighed, hiding behind the steaming cup of tea. "I admit, you do have a point, but we both know I can't afford to take a whole year break at this stage. It will set me back too much. Perhaps I could do a couple weeks?"

"It makes sense," she replied, understanding where he was coming from.

Jay invested a lot into his career and had a very detailed plan for its progression. Not to mention the pressure of being the son of Margaret Anderson. She couldn't even imagine how difficult it must have been to have everyone looking at him and expecting to follow in her footsteps. Yet, he chose a different path. His dream of working for the Crown Prosecution Service was as far removed from what his mother did as a constitutional and civil rights lawyer as possible. Tina admired him for that... for finding his way of establishing his own identity in a world dominated by his mother's formidable reputation.

"Where are you planning to go?"

"I've been thinking about taking a backpacking trip," he began, his gaze fixed on the swirling steam. "Although, now, I can't decide where. Nepal and Peru both have incredible opportunities for mountain climbing, and I could use some quiet time to consider some... things."

Tina blinked twice in surprise. "That's actually impressive... I was sure you would go somewhere with wifi to work from a hotel room."

Jay rolled his eyes and threw a kitchen towel at her. "Have some faith, will you?"

She caught it mid-air and chuckled. "I would if I didn't know you this long."

He grinned in response, appreciating her unyielding honesty.

After sharing breakfast and getting Tina her coffee at the nearby café, they parted ways, returning to their busy lives. She had to catch her return flight to Liverpool while Jay was heading back to his office to tackle the mountain of paperwork left after yesterday's successful trial. As always, he had a busy day ahead, but for the first time in years, his steps showed some genuine lightness as if a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders.

As a couple days quietly slipped by since Tina's visit, Jay divided his time between work he needed to finish before leaving and planning his backpacking trip. After careful consideration, Peru's rugged and majestic landscapes emerged as his preferred destination. His fluency in Spanish not only made the prospect more accessible but also added a layer of cultural richness that greatly appealed to him.

His mountain climbing hobby, nurtured since his teenage years, played a significant role in his decision. Since he could remember, Jay thrived in moments when challenging peaks pushed him physically and mentally to the limits. For him, the allure of climbing lay in the fact that there is no moment when he feels more alive than when he is teetering on the brink of danger, where the thrill and adrenaline rush come hand in hand with the inherent risk. Besides, Jay genuinely looked forward to the solitude and tranquillity that only nature could offer, a respite from the relentless demands of his career and life.

Amidst the organised flurry of paperwork and meticulous last-minute preparations, a soft knock came at his office door on a particularly busy afternoon. He glanced up, momentarily drawn from his work-induced focus. Rebecca, the poised receptionist with her hair neatly tucked behind her ears, stood there, an apologetic smile gracing her features.

"Mr. Anderson," she began, her tone carrying the respectful professionalism that was the hallmark of her role. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but there's been a series of persistent calls from Mr Art Thawin. He insists on being your friend and speaking with you directly, claiming it's urgent."

Jay furrowed his brows, the name not ringing any immediate bells. He briefly recalled the note his mother had passed him, but nothing besides this. "I don't recognise the name. Did he provide any details?"

Rebecca sighed softly, her usually unflappable demeanour showing signs of weariness. "I've asked, but Mr Thawin refuses to divulge the reason for his calls. He's been rather insistent, and honestly, it's been challenging to shake him off."

"That's odd."

She nodded in agreement. "I took the liberty of insinuating that as your friend, he should have other means of contacting you than a workplace, but Mr Thawin still insisted on speaking with you, Mr Anderson."

Despite his annoyance with the situation, Jay nodded appreciatively at her tactful handling of the problem and her discreet effort to safeguard his professional space. "Thank you. If he calls again, please provide him with my company email. Let him know that I'll come back to him as soon as possible if the matter requires my attention."

Rebecca offered a reassuring yet professional smile. "Of course, Mr Anderson. I'll convey your message."

With that settled, Jay returned his focus to the tasks at hand, the mysterious calls from Art Thawin temporarily set aside as he delved back into his work.

Little did he know that this one email would change his life forever... that it would derail its course, challenge everything he believed in, and threaten the status quo he maintained for so long.