As I stepped forward, my son appeared in the doorway like a shadow.
Daniel looked different—thinner, tense, with dark circles beneath his eyes. The charcoal suit he wore was clearly expensive—far beyond what he could usually afford. I knew exactly who had chosen it.
Behind him stood two security guards, arms crossed, as if I were a threat. As if being a mother were dangerous.
“Mom…” he began, but his voice faltered.
He swallowed and looked away.
I said nothing. I simply waited.
My heart was pounding so loudly I could feel it behind my eyes, yet my face remained calm.
“I didn’t invite you here.”
Silence.
People nearby started to notice. Whispers spread. Curious eyes turned toward us.
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