“You want me to come home.”
“Yes.” My father’s response arrived without a second’s hesitation.
Home meant my parents, my grandparents, the house where I’d grown up, the language that lived in my bones.
It also meant federation officials sitting in conference rooms deciding how much of me was acceptable.
Interviews carefully managed and statements carefully worded.
Pretending certain parts of my life didn’t exist because acknowledging them would make other people uncomfortable.
“You come home,” my mother said gently. “You let things settle. People will stop talking eventually.”
My throat was suddenly scratchy, my vision blurred.She genuinely believes that.
Maybe she needed to.
I drew in a deep breath.
“What if I don’t want them to stop talking?”
The silence that followed was heavier than any I remembered.
My father cleared his throat. “Luka…”
“What if I’m tired of apologizing for things that aren’t wrong?”
Neither of them answered. Even I wasn’t sure there was an answer.
My mother sighed. “Luka, nobody is asking you to apologize.”
I laughed. I didn’t know how to explain it to her.
“Mama, I’ve spent ten years apologizing.”
The silence on the other end of the line was immediate.
“I knew when I was fourteen. Before that, if I’m being honest.” My throat tightened. “I knew, and I didn’t tell anyone.”
Neither of my parents spoke.
I was past choosing my words carefully. They’d lived inside me too long for that.
“I didn’t tell my coaches. I didn’t tell my friends. I didn’t tell my partner.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t tell you.”
“Luka—”
“No, please.” The interruption slipped out before I could stop it. I closed my eyes. “You keep asking me to come home, and I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”
My mother made a small sound of distress. “I understand more than you think.”
“Do you?” The question escaped before I could soften it.
For a moment nobody spoke.
“I spent ten years being afraid.” The admission left me feeling exposed. “Every time somebody made a joke. Every time a politician said something. Every time a commentator talked about values or tradition or family.” I stared out at the lights of Milan. “I listened.”
My father’s voice was quiet. “We never gave you a reason to be afraid of us.”
