At my in-laws’ house, I found my son locked in the guest room after two days, and when my father-in-law blocked the hallway saying I had no rights, I made one call, showed one document, and watched his power disappear.

Monday came.

No answer.

By Tuesday night, my son was whispering from behind a locked guest room door like he’d been erased.

I kicked the door once.

The frame cracked.

Deborah gasped.

Terrence barked, “Don’t you dare.”

I kicked it again.

The door flew open so hard the brass handle punched the wall.

Tyler was sitting on the edge of the bed in the same blue hoodie he had worn Friday. His hair was flat on one side. His sneakers were still on. His eyes were red, but the second he saw me, he ran.