Veronica, without saying a word, almost collapsed on the porch. She rushed outside, walking quickly toward the bus stop. The house. He sold the house. Her son. What had happened to him?

Veronica Stevens paused by the familiar gate, leaning against the woven fence. She had just stepped off the bus, her heart racing from the brisk walk, and fatigue was starting to restrict her movements. The smoke from the chimney on the yard seemed to unsettle her. She was having trouble breathing, and her hands were damp with anxiety. Her forehead was covered with sweat, but gathering all her strength, she pushed the gate open and stepped onto the threshold of her childhood home.

She glanced around the yard. Although her son hadn’t written to her in a long time, Veronica was certain he wouldn’t deceive her. He had promised that the house would be in order, and now she could see it — indeed, everything was just as he had promised. She climbed up to the porch, eagerly awaiting the reunion with her son, whom she hadn’t seen in years. She was already reaching out to embrace him.

But when the door opened, a stranger stood in the doorway. A man with a towel over his shoulder, looking at her with disdain, silently asked:

— Who are you looking for?

— Where is Jack? — Veronica asked, confused.

The man didn’t rush to answer. He glanced at her, rubbed his chin, and slightly frowned.

— Jack? Your son? — he asked after a pause. — Well, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you. He sold me this house, so it’s mine now.

Her world shattered, like glass. Veronica, without saying a word, almost collapsed on the porch. She rushed outside, walking quickly toward the bus stop. The house. He sold the house. Her son. What had happened to him?

Four years ago, she had taken the fall for his crime so he could go free. It was her sacrifice for his freedom. She ended up in prison, and he lived his life. Three years had passed with no word from him — Veronica had no idea where to look. The sky was overcast, and the rain drizzled. Everything felt as though it was tightening around her, squeezing her heart.

She sat down on a bench at the bus stop, losing hope. And then, as if sent to rescue her, a black car stopped. The same man who had bought the house handed her a piece of paper with an address:

— There was an address on the house. If you want, I can give you a ride.

Veronica silently took the paper and hurried toward the bus.

A few hours of reflection and despair later, she stood before a door on the third floor of an old building. Her heart was pounding, but when the door opened, there stood her son — alive but strange, distant.

— Mom? Why did you come here? — Jack asked, pushing her away.

He quickly closed the door in her face. Jack explained that he was living with a woman who didn’t tolerate ex-convicts. He didn’t even go near the money from the house sale, simply saying he had no money. Veronica stood on the doorstep, unsure of what to do. But her son disappeared, leaving her standing there.

She didn’t cry, but her heart was full of bitterness and disappointment. In her eyes, there was sorrow — her own son had sold the house and hadn’t even invited her. She turned around, but her legs carried her not home, but to another place — to her friend Sarah’s house. But, as it turned out, Sarah had passed away, and Veronica was left all alone.

She walked in the rain, unsure of where to go, when once again the black car stopped. The man who had bought the house offered to help.

— Get in, you’re soaking wet! — he said, and Veronica, not knowing what else to do, accepted his offer.

The man, Andrew, as he introduced himself, turned out to be a kind soul. He offered her to stay with him while she figured out what to do next. So Veronica ended up in a new home, now Andrew’s home.

Days passed, and Veronica found her place in life. She cooked meals for Andrew, helped him with his work, and he appreciated her care and motherly warmth. Andrew had never known the love of a parent, but now he felt it in every day.

But one day, when a new candidate came to Andrew’s office for a job interview, Veronica immediately recognized who it was. It was Jack, her son, the very one who had sold the house.

Jack stood in the doorway, slightly nervous, with a smirk on his face, as if hoping his mother wouldn’t notice. But Veronica saw through him. She quickly wrote up her assessment and passed it to Andrew. He, reading it, told Jack to leave.

— “Good-for-nothing,” — Andrew said loudly, and Jack, with a twisted smile, walked out.

Veronica no longer worried about her son. She understood that now, her family was Andrew. And despite the pain, she accepted him as her own son. And in this house, where there had once been emptiness, now there was a true, warm atmosphere.

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Veronica, without saying a word, almost collapsed on the porch. She rushed outside, walking quickly toward the bus stop. The house. He sold the house. Her son. What had happened to him?