Nineteen years later, my mother reappearednow she wants money and a roof over her head.
I was ten when I realised that those who give you life are not always the ones who stay. It wasnt a slow departure, not a tearful goodbye. No, it was brutal.
One day, I still had a home, a family, parents. The next, they left me in a childrens home and walked away without looking back.
No explanation. No final embrace. Not even a whisper of promise that theyd return.
The first days, I wept. The first weeks, I hoped. The first months, I waited.
I told myself it was a mistake, that theyd come back for me. I clung to the belief they loved me, that they must have had a good reason to leave me behind.
But they never came back.
In time, I understood no one would come. No one wondered where I was, if I had enough to eat, if I shivered in the night.
The childrens home was no place for illusions. There, we didnt speak of love or familywe learned to survive. I saw children crumble under the weight of abandonment, the light in their eyes fading to nothing.
But I refused to drown.
I worked, I studied, I built my future with my own hands. I swore Id never depend on anyone again.
And I succeeded.
After years of sacrifice and sweat, I finally had all I needed. A modest flat in Manchester, a steady job, a car. I was alone, but I needed no one.
I thought Id buried my past. But the past has a cruel way of returning when you least expect it.
A shadow from the past.
It began on an ordinary morning.
I fetched my coffee from the corner café, as I did every day. The scent of freshly ground beans hung in the air, and the world felt peaceful.
Then I saw her.
A woman stood across the street, staring at me with an intensity that unsettled me.
I looked away and walked on.
But the next day, she was there again.
And the day after.
I spotted her outside my building, motionless, hesitant, as if she wanted to step inside but couldnt find the courage.
Then, one evening, she finally approached.
“Thomas is that really you?”
Her voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper.
I turned, and for a moment, the world stood still.
I knew her at once.
Despite the years, the deep lines on her face, the streaks of grey in her hairI knew.
It was her.
My mother.
The woman who abandoned me now wanted to stay.
She spoke quickly, not giving me a chance to react. Her words were frantic, as if she feared Id leave before she could finish.
She told me how life had beaten her down, how my father had turned to drink, how theyd lost everything.
Then came the question Id expected.
“Ive nowhere to go Can I stay with you?”
She had nothing.
No money, no home, no family.
And she wanted me to welcome her into my life.
She said she could care for me, cook my meals, be the mother shed never been.
As if words could erase it all, mend what was broken.
I listened. I watched the tears roll down her cheeks.
But inside me, there was nothing.
No anger.
No pity.
Just emptiness.
The decision that changed everything.
“You left me.” My voice was calm, cold. “You walked away and never looked back. Why do you think you have the right to return now?”
Her face crumpled, her shoulders sagged.
“Thomas I made a mistake I was afraid I was lost But youre my son.”
I gave a bitter smile.
“I was your son, nineteen years ago. Today, Im a stranger to you.”
She reached for me, searching for contact, for hope.
I stepped back.
“Please Ive no one left.”
I hesitated. For a heartbeat.
Maybe another man would have let her in.
Maybe another would have believed her words.
But not me.
Not with her.
She made her choice, nineteen years ago.
Now it was my turn.
“Never look for me again.”
She didnt argue.
She simply bowed her head.
Then she turned and walked away.
I watched her vanish down the street, waiting to feel something.
Anything.
But there was nothing.
No relief.
No regret.
Only silence.
Perhaps, if shed stayed all those years ago, Id have been a different man.
Perhaps Id have known what it was to have a family.
But Ill never know.
The past cant be changed. But the future?
That belongs to me.
And I choose to walk it alone.
