They laughed when my son walked across the stage at his graduation ceremony with a newborn in his arms – one woman whispered: “Just like his mother…”

So we were always alone.

Adrian grew up in the quiet moments between my hectic days, between double shifts, unpaid bills, and silent prayers while shopping for cheap groceries. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t demanding. But he observed everything.

He noticed when I skipped meals.

He noticed it when I was crying in the shower.

He understood what it meant to stay.

As his last year of school approached, I thought the worst was over.

He had good grades, scholarships in his pocket, and a future that finally seemed stable.

Then… something changed.

He came home later and later.