"How did you sleep?" Luana asked. 

She had invited Nina for a walk on a route she usually took on Saturdays. The morning was gloomy, clouds heavy with rain were looming overhead, but Luana had checked the forecast and it wasn't supposed to rain until the afternoon. Nina glanced at her aunt.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that yesterday. I didn't want to put you in an uncomfortable position," she said. The two were strolling through a fancy glamping resort, passing by a row of large white canvas tents as they made their way to the coastline.

Luana raised her eyebrows. "Do you always respond to situations where you should feel anger with sadness?"

Nina was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the things your mother said to you yesterday would make any sane person want to scream their lungs out. Did you do that? Did you go to the beach and yell at the waves? Because that's what I would have done."

Nina had left the house feeling furious. But as she approached the beach, the injustice of it all made her feel sorry for herself. It pained her that her mother misunderstood her intentions. Shouldn't parents love their children unconditionally? Could it really be that she was selfish and simply undeserving of it?

"The truth is," she said, hesitating, "you're right. By the time I reached the beach, I'd given up trying to fight off the tears. I searched for a secluded spot where I could just let it all out."

Luana nodded knowingly. 

"That's what I thought." She unbuttoned her jacket, as their bodies were warming up by movement despite the occasional cold gusts of wind. "Women are taught to suppress their anger because expressing it is considered unladylike. It might seem counterintuitive, but channeling our rage in a healthy way, rather than letting it simmer inside, can lead to positive change. It involves having uncomfortable conversations and asserting oneself, but as you're probably aware, merely avoiding confrontation rarely brings forth a resolution."

Nina waited until they were out of earshot of the elderly couple they were passing. 

"I don't remember the last time I acted out of anger," she said, thinking. "It must have been in middle school. But do you honestly think it makes sense to argue with my mother? I never felt like I was getting anywhere when I tried to talk to her."

Her aunt bit her upper lip. 

"Listen, I'm sorry for surprising you yesterday. They caught me off guard when we met in town, and I thought it might be easier for you if you met them with me being present. I didn't want you to run into them on your own or, even worse, not see them until the day of the trial."

"That's alright," Nina said, suddenly craving a cup of coffee. "It was bound to happen. Better that it did in a somewhat controlled environment."

"Having said that, I think your mother might be a bit narcissistic, and I've always felt there's little room for developing a meaningful relationship with her. But I'm concerned about your sister. Every time you storm off, you deny her the chance to hear your side of the story. Also, of the two of you, you are more likely to stand up to your mother, and it's high time one of you did."

Nina gazed pensively at the distant horizon. The waves were beginning to look menacing, but she found she enjoyed being close to what seemed like impending natural reckoning while still feeling perfectly safe. 

"You're saying I should confront my mother for the sake of the family's well-being?"

"I think you owe it to yourself to fight for your sister. She looks up to you and needs to see your courage. Don't give up on her; you're more alike than you think."

"Name one thing we have in common."

"You both grew up with your mother," Luana said pointedly. "And you both lost a father."

Nina paused. "I don't know if I'm as brave as you think I am."

"You are. Do you think someone not brave would ever start their own business? Would they move to the other side of the world by themselves?"

Nina didn't feel there was anything special about it. While preparing for the journey, she scanned Facebook groups filled with people doing similar things, some of their stories far more remarkable than hers. She felt that most of these people were younger than her and had started long-distance traveling years ago. This was her first time leaving Europe, and she was almost thirty.

While Luana excused herself to use the bathroom, Nina's mind wandered to thoughts of Bo. She had sent him a message before falling asleep the night before, pouring her heart out about what had happened during dinner. He left her on seen.

Had she expected too much from him? It wasn't as if they were in a relationship, so why did she turn to him to console her? Did she make him uncomfortable with the heartfelt message she sent, caused by her mother's outburst? She had even tried to explain how much it hurt to think she was a disappointment to her father. She now regretted sending the message and wished she had waited until the morning.

She had dreamt one of her usual nightmares. In it, she was in her bedroom crying while the rest of her family watched TV in the living room adjacent to it. She heard her sister laughing with her father at something Nina had said earlier in the day, and it felt like her chest might crack open. In the dream, she had difficulty breathing; her lungs couldn't expand to let in air, and knowing her own father was making fun of her hurt deeply. She woke up, relieved it was only a dream, and wondered at its recurrence. What did it mean? She managed to fall back asleep and woke up feeling somewhat better. Then she saw she still hadn't received a reply from Bo, and her mood sank.

Gazing towards the sea, she calculated the time difference and concluded that even if he had been asleep when he received the message, he should have woken up by now. She took out her phone to check the time. It was almost eleven in the morning, which meant it was already three in the afternoon in Bangkok. There was an email from Chompoo asking her to schedule a Zoom meeting. She quickly replied that she would be available in a few hours and saw Luana approaching.

"Any fun plans for the weekend?" her aunt asked.

"Afraid not," Nina said wistfully. "It's just going to be work, work work until I die."

–

In her room, Nina sat by the window, watching the storm as heavy raindrops lashed against the trees outside. Though it was still early in the afternoon, the storm clouds had turned the sky so dark that she had to switch on the light. She was working on the final revisions for the draft Chompoo would be presenting to Mr. Sombat on Monday, but focusing was difficult. Every few minutes, her eyes darted to her phone, hoping for a new message. There were none.

Thankfully, Chompoo had made significant progress during their time apart, and Nina felt a surge of pride. Chompoo had not only grasped the basics of web design but, with her keen sense of style, was quickly becoming an asset to the project. It wasn't always easy explaining to her why an idea wouldn't work, but Nina enjoyed the challenge and could see herself working with Chompoo in the future.

They had just finished a quick meeting, and Chompoo had logged in from Z Coffee. Seeing that familiar setting made Nina realize how much she missed Bangkok. She felt a pang of homesickness, a longing to return. The urge to be back in the city fueled her motivation, pushing her to work harder despite the dull ache in her back from hours of sitting in a less-than-ergonomic chair.

Her phone beeped, and she quickly grabbed it, only to see a notification from her bank, warning her that her card was nearing its contactless limit. Frustrated, she switched her phone to silent and tossed it onto the bed behind her. The brief moment of distraction left her restless. She blinked hard, trying to refocus, but the irritation in her eyes signaled she had been staring at the screen too long.

When she realized she had been stuck on the same problem for over an hour, she knew it was time to call it a night. But sleep didn't come easily. No message from Bo had arrived, and her mind kept churning through the unsolved problem. She barely resisted the temptation to ask Chompoo about Bo. Lying in bed, she wished she had—because even bad news would be better than this silence. But now, with it being midnight in Croatia and five in the morning in Bangkok, there was no point in reaching out to anyone.

Scrolling through YouTube, she found her favorite booktuber, and let a video about Steinbeck's works lull her to sleep.

At some point during the night, a short and cryptic message from Bo had arrived:

Hang in there. Talk to you soon.

Nina stared at the message in the dim light of early morning, her heart sinking. Would no message at all have been better? Was this really all he had to offer?

I'm fine, don't worry about me.

She typed the words, but after a few moments, deleted them. She didn't want to be passive-aggressive and face rejection with bad vibes.

Instead, she took a deep breath and decided that, for now, coffee would serve her better than anything else.