I thought everything was fine.
But over time, small things began to shift.
My son stopped eating breakfast on mornings when Mark stayed over. He claimed he wasn’t hungry. He started staying late at practice. He spent weekends at his grandmother’s house more often than before.
I convinced myself it was coincidence. Sports were good for him. Family time was good too.
After four months, Mark began staying with us more frequently. We talked about him moving in permanently. I was beginning to get used to the idea.
Then one morning, everything cracked.
Mark had stayed the night again. My son came into the kitchen, saw him, and froze in the doorway. He didn’t say a word. He turned around and walked back to his room.
Something in the way he moved made me follow him.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing.
“What happened?” I asked gently.
