Once, on our anniversary, we were at a restaurant I’d been excited about for weeks. Halfway through the appetizers, Harry’s phone buzzed.
“Mom’s having a hard night,” he said, already standing. “She feels lonely. I need to go check on her.”
I sat there with two full plates of food and a candle burning between us, watching him leave.
When I tried to talk about it later, he waved me off.
“She raised me alone. She sacrificed everything.”
“She feels lonely. I need to go check on her.”
“I know, but…”
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