I believed people most regretted conversations they had never had. I repeated that sentence to Marko whenever he mentioned the father he had not spoken to for nine years. Marko said he had talked enough; nobody had listened. I did not ask what that meant. I carried my own picture of a family embracing in the end, and kept trying to force his family into it.

I obtained his father's number from a cousin and called without Marko's knowledge. The man sounded older than I expected and said he missed his son. I did not examine his version of the past. Pity was enough to make me feel useful. I arranged lunch at a restaurant, telling Marko we would celebrate his new job. I even bought a cake, convinced that sweetness would help the words I had planned to say.

When Marko saw his father at the table, he stopped. He did not run towards him, cry or do anything from my imagined scene. He asked whether I had arranged it. I said I only wanted them to try. His father stood and began saying there was no need for old grievances. Marko turned and left. I followed, angry that he had not stayed long enough to show gratitude for my intentions.

Outside he told me I had invited him under a false pretext and brought him before a man from whom he had spent years trying to distance himself. I began explaining that his father would not live forever. Marko replied that he did not have an infinite number of lives to spend on the same injuries either. He owed me no details for his refusal to be clear enough. For the first time I heard that as a fact rather than an obstacle to remove gently.

I cancelled lunch. I did not promise his father that I would try again. I apologised to Marko without saying I had meant well, because he had heard that too often already. For several days he did not want to see me. I did not ask the cousin to intervene. It was difficult to sit with my mistake without taking another action that would make me the central person in somebody else's relationship again. The cake remained unopened in the fridge.

When we finally talked, Marko did not promise a quick return of trust. He said he wanted a partner who asked him, not someone who arranged him according to her picture of a happy ending. We stayed together, more carefully than before. I did not discuss his father unless he began. That month love did not appear as a grand restaurant reunion, but as the ability not to open a door he had clearly told me he wanted closed.