— Mom, you’re just a poor woman! — shouted Ethan, slamming his bedroom door.
Claire froze in the hallway, holding her son’s half-worn T-shirt tightly against her chest. His words hit harder than any physical blow. Her knees buckled, and a weight settled deep in her chest. Lately, scenes like this were becoming all too common.
— Ethan, — she called softly, — let’s talk…
— About nothing! — came his voice from behind the door. — Everyone has normal parents, and you’re a poor woman! Like, Marcus just got the new iPhone, and you? “Wait until the next paycheck”… Always no money!
Claire closed her eyes. In her mind, the sleepless nights resurfaced, the old car she had sold to pay for Ethan’s courses, the bread she’d eaten instead of lunch… All of it, she had done for him, and now he said these things.
— My son, — she tried to speak calmly, though her voice trembled, — you know I do everything I can…
— Exactly! — The door suddenly swung open, making Claire jump. — All you can do is NOTHING! And my dad, he gets what I need. He doesn’t save like you!
Marcus. Her ex-husband, who had simply walked out eleven years ago, leaving her with a four-year-old son. Now he was a successful businessman and a caring father. He bought Ethan expensive gifts, took him to restaurants, and organized weekends in his country house. It’s easy to be a good dad when you only show up once a week with presents. But who was the one waking up in the middle of the night to care for the sick child? Who sewed his jeans and made soup? Who checked his homework?
— Mom, I want to live with Dad! — Ethan looked at her with contempt. — He has a normal house, not this rundown place! And a cool car, not your old junk! And he’s actually achieved something in life!
Every word was like a blow. Claire felt a tear roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and answered:
— If you want to live with him, then go ahead. I won’t stop you. But don’t come back to me later and complain.
— I won’t! — Ethan huffed and slammed the door again.
Claire turned away and walked silently to the kitchen. Automatically, she set the kettle on, took out a cup, and put in a teabag… She couldn’t bring herself to think about what had just happened. How her son, the one she lived for, had just broken her heart.
That evening, Marcus called.
— Claire, Ethan said he wants to live with me, — she could hear a hint of pride in his voice. — Are you okay with that?
— Fine, — she replied tiredly. — Take him. Maybe he’ll value you more then.
— What are you talking about? — Marcus laughed. — Ethan just wants to live in better conditions. What can you offer him with your paycheck?
Claire muted the phone and sat back in the kitchen, staring out the window into the dark. Behind the wall, she could hear the sounds of Ethan packing his things. He could hardly wait to leave the “poor mom” behind…
“God, why? — she thought, — I’ve done everything for him… My whole life for him…”
The next morning, Ethan left. He packed two huge bags, muttered a quick “Bye,” and slammed the door behind him. Claire was left alone. The apartment felt eerily quiet. She walked through the rooms, pausing at little things that reminded her of her son: socks under the bed, a cup of cocoa that hadn’t been drunk, a poster of his favorite rock band on the wall… She entered his room and sat on the bed. It still smelled like his favorite deodorant.
In the corner lay the old stuffed dog — his favorite childhood toy. She’d sewn its ears back on, washed it countless times… And now it was left behind. Just like her.
And suddenly, Claire felt a sense of relief. No more preparing breakfasts he never ate. No more mountains of socks and T-shirts to wash. No more accusations and comparisons with “normal” parents.
She stood up, walked to the closet, and took out her nice dress — the one she hadn’t worn in ages. Why not go to the cinema or a restaurant she’d always walked past?
Suddenly, her phone beeped. It was a message from Ethan: “I forgot my tablet charger. Bring it to me.”
No “please.” Claire thought for a moment, then wrote back: “Sorry, my boy, I’m busy today. Ask Dad, he can buy you a new one. He can afford it.” And for the first time in a long while, she smiled.
The first few days at his dad’s felt like a fairy tale. A big house, a new room, a massive computer, luxurious furniture, pictures on the walls — it was a stark contrast to her old apartment. It was “normal.”
— So, how do you like it? — Marcus asked proudly as he showed Ethan around. — Not like your rundown place!
Ethan nodded, but in his heart, memories of the nights his mom had sewn him toys to buy him a bike pierced him. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away.
Marcus’ wife, Marina, greeted him coldly. She was tall, well-groomed, with perfectly manicured nails, and she exuded an icy air.
— Please don’t make a mess in your room, — she said, — we don’t have a hostel here.
Her children, twins Kirill and Karina, stared at Ethan as if he were a rare animal.
— Is it true you used to live in a council flat? — Karina asked at dinner. — And you didn’t even have your own bathroom?
— I did, — Ethan replied. — Not anymore.
— Poor guy, — Karina said with a smile.
— Kids, stop arguing, — Marina intervened, bored. — Ethan, behave.
The days passed slowly. His father was constantly at work, and when he came home, he only focused on the twins and his conversations with Marina. Ethan wandered around the huge house, feeling like a stranger. At school, things were bad — no one cared about his homework.
— Dad, could we go for a walk? — he asked one day.
— Sorry, son, work, — Marcus brushed him off. — Here, take some money for pocket money.
Money. Always just money. But did he know what music Ethan liked? Did he know that Ethan hated oatmeal? Did he know that his son was scared of thunderstorms and had nightmares?
Mom knew that. She always knew.
One day, Ethan overheard a conversation between his dad and Marina.
— How long is he going to stay here? He’s disturbing the atmosphere for the twins! Maybe we should send him to boarding school?
— He’s my son, — Marcus said uncertainly.
— But I’m not raising him! You take care of him! — Marina openly showed her dissatisfaction.
Ethan quietly turned and went back to his room. Everything suddenly became clear. He picked up his phone, opened the chat with his mom. The last message was from two weeks ago when he’d asked her for the charger, and she didn’t bring it. And he hadn’t even apologized for his rudeness.
His finger hovered over the screen. “Sorry?” Or “I miss you”? But his pride wouldn’t let him send either. He put the phone on the bed and buried his face in the pillow. And suddenly, he realized his eyes were full of tears.
A week later, Aunt Olga called him.
— Ethan, your mom is in the hospital. She has pneumonia. She didn’t want to tell you, but you need to know.
He rushed to the hospital without telling his father. His mom was weak, but when she saw him, she smiled.
— Ethan, you came? — she whispered, stroking his hair.
— Mom… — his voice trembled. — I’m sorry, I was… an idiot.
Claire laughed softly, her eyes filled with tears.
— I love you, — she said. — You’re my son.
Now, she didn’t want wealth or a big house. She just wanted her son back. She wanted him to know that he would always be the most important thing in the world to her.
