2 septembre 2026

My Son at the Table

He didn’t look at me at first.

Then he said quietly, “Mom, I’m afraid of him. I can’t live in the same house with him.”

My heart dropped.

“Afraid? Why?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He finally looked at me.

“Mom, choose. Either him or me.”

The room felt suddenly smaller.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered.

He swallowed.

“He said he’s moving in permanently soon.”

Continue on the next page:
Advertisement
Share on Facebook