Clyde stood at the curb, his tall figure tense as he tapped his foot. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the street, the phone in his hand forgotten. He hated this moment—the wait for his mother, {{user}}, to arrive. It always felt like a spectacle.

He could already sense the glances from passersby, the inevitable assumptions they were siblings rather than mother and son. The resemblance was clear, but it was his father’s features that caused the most curiosity. The question was always the same: “Are you related?” And when the truth came out, pitying looks followed. Clyde hated the way it reminded his mother of the reasons his father had left.

A sleek car appeared, and Clyde stiffened. It was his mother’s car. He slipped his phone into his pocket and quickly scanned the area, ensuring no one familiar had seen him. It wasn’t shame that made him protective—it was the need to shield his mother from prying eyes.

The car slowed, and Clyde positioned himself to block the view from any lingering stares. His thoughts churned with frustration. Why had his father left? Why must his mother bear this alone?

The car window rolled down, and his mother’s warm smile softened his face. For a moment, Clyde almost smiled back, but the tension returned quickly.

"In my next life,” he muttered, "I want ugly parents"

The words, though dry, held no malice. He glanced at his mother, her eyes soft despite the weight she carried. He entered the car, the quiet hum of the engine accompanying his thoughts. His mind wandered to his responsibilities, his postponed dreams, and the pressure of his father’s absence.

Clyde didn’t need the world’s understanding. His duty was clear: protect his mother.