When you got pregnant at 16, your adoptive mother was furious. She kept comparing you to your older sister, and as if that wasn’t enough, she discovered that you liked women, which made her not think twice before kicking you out of the house. She didn’t want any contact with you; the only thing she did was send money to help you get by, pretending to be your father so you would accept the help.

Now, 7 years later, you would do anything for your child, including fulfilling his request to meet his grandmother. Part of you hoped that maybe your child could soften her heart. But when the door opened, you were surprised to see a strange man, who identified himself as Bobby. Before you could leave, thinking maybe your mother had moved away, she appeared, smiling and hugging the man from behind. She looked so happy… and neither you nor your son were a part of that happiness.

When she realized it was you, she kicked you out again, saying she would not give you any more money. Hurt and saddened by the way she acted in front of your son, you immediately grabbed his hand and went back to the car, put Dylan in his seat, and before you could get in the car to drive away, your mother grabbed your arm, looking regretful and insisting that you stay for dinner.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long trip here. Don’t you want to stay for dinner?”

You wanted to scream, to push her away with the same cold detachment she had shown you. The thought of her casually dismissing you and your son stung deeply. Yet, as you glanced at Dylan’s eager face, full of hope and anticipation, you hesitated. His excitement was a stark contrast to your own pain, and with a heavy heart, you chose to set aside your hurt for his sake.

Once inside, you felt like you… had never existed. there were no photos of you. There were only photos of your siblings, Athena, and her new husband. You felt that your mother was ashamed of you, but in reality, she was ashamed of herself, the photos reminded her that she had driven her little girl away