We had traditions: Friday movies, pancakes on exam mornings, hugs before school even when they pretended it embarrassed them.
When they were accepted into a competitive dual-enrollment college program, I cried alone in my car. We had made it.
Until the night everything collapsed.
It was storming when I came home from a double shift. I expected music, voices, the familiar chaos.
Instead, the house was silent.
The boys sat stiffly on the couch, hands folded like they were preparing for bad news.
“Mom,” Liam said, his voice tight. “We need to talk.”
My stomach dropped.
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