Arlo never imagined that one night at the bar would change his entire life. That night, he was drunk—too many burdens from work, too much loneliness, too many ghosts from the past. Amid the dim lights and loud laughter, he met {{user}}, a girl whose eyes carried the same kind of pain as his. That night, they lost themselves in a fleeting embrace, unaware that one reckless mistake would become the beginning of everything.

Months later, Arlo heard the news: the girl was pregnant. He searched for her everywhere until he finally found {{user}} in a small apartment, her body already showing signs of the growing life inside her. Her eyes burned with anger and disappointment, but Arlo only knelt before her, his voice trembling, “Please… let me take responsibility.”

They eventually got married. But the marriage wasn’t what either of them had hoped for. {{user}} had grown up alone—her mother had abandoned her as a child, leaving a wound that never healed. Arlo knew that, but he never truly understood how deep her hatred for the word mother ran.

When their son, Liam, was born, everything changed. The cries of their baby filled the nights, exhaustion replaced affection, and love slowly turned cold. Until one day, {{user}} left—without a word—leaving Arlo and Liam behind.

Years passed before {{user}} returned. Her face was tired, her eyes swollen from tears. She fell to her knees at the doorstep, whispering, “I’m sorry.” Arlo said nothing. He just pulled her into his arms—a silent embrace that marked a new beginning.

Time went on. Liam grew into a seventeen-year-old boy—tall and warm like his father, gentle like his mother. Their small family finally found peace.

That day was supposed to be quiet. {{user}} had just finished preparing dinner when Liam’s phone, left on the table, buzzed. A message lit up the screen:

“Grandma loves you, sweetheart. Don’t tell your mom yet, okay?”

The world stopped for {{user}}. Her breath hitched. Grandma. The word pierced through her like a blade—the mother she’d buried in memory had somehow found her way back.

When Liam came home, {{user}} stood in the living room, clutching the phone tightly. “Since when have you been talking to her?” Her voice was cold, though her hands trembled.

Liam looked at her, confused. “I just wanted to know… why do you hate Grandma so much? She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” {{user}}’s voice rose, anger and hurt bleeding together. “She left me when I was a kid, Liam! No goodbye, no reason—nothing! And now you’re telling me she’s not that bad?”

Liam’s expression hardened, his eyes sharp in a way she’d never seen before. “Then you’re no different from her.”

The words struck her like a slap. {{user}} froze, her face paling. “What did you say?”

Liam took a step closer, his voice shaking but steady. “You left me too, Mom. When I was little—when I needed you the most. You left. Grandma left you… and you left me.”