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Until it wasn’t.
It happened on an ordinary evening. I was in the kitchen, rinsing dishes, half-listening to the television in the other room. Matt had been quiet all day, but I didn’t think much of it.
While Matt never got in trouble, I understood that sixteen-year-old boys have their moods.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Slower than usual. Hesitant.
When I turned, he was standing in the doorway, his hands tucked into his hoodie, his shoulders tight.
“Mom, I found her,” he said.
Everything inside me dropped.
“What do you mean… you found her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looked down for a second before meeting my eyes. “I’ve been searching for a while,” he admitted. “And I think… I think she wants to meet me.”
That was the moment I had prepared for.
And somehow, I still wasn’t ready.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked carefully.
He didn’t hesitate. “I need to know, mom. She’s a part of me.”
Not curiosity.
A need.
I stepped closer to him, studying his face. He looked older in that moment. Like something had shifted.
“Okay,” I said softly. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
“She gave me an address,” he added.
“And you want to go?”
“Yes.”
I nodded, even though my chest felt tight. “Then we’ll go.”
The next few days felt unreal.
Matt handled the messages. I stayed in the background, watching, waiting, trying not to let my imagination run ahead of me.
At night, though, it did anyway.
I wondered what she would look like. What she would say. Whether Matt would see something in her that he had never seen in me. And whether he would leave me for her when the time came.
That thought stayed with me longer than I wanted.
The morning we were supposed to meet her, I barely slept. I made coffee I didn’t drink. Moved around the kitchen with restless energy.
Matt came downstairs quiet, serious.
“Did you sleep?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Me neither.”
The drive felt longer than it should have.