The next morning, I went through the routine of preparing breakfast for Dennis, though the weight of our conversation the previous night still lingered in my mind. The soft morning light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. When Dennis came out of his room, his greeting was colder than usual.
"Good morning, Mom," he said, his voice distant.
A tightness gripped my heart, but I kept my voice calm. "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"
Dennis nodded without saying more. He quietly sat down to eat his breakfast, and the room filled with an awkward silence. Every small sound the clink of his fork on the plate, the spoon stirring the milk felt magnified in the stillness.
After finishing his meal, Dennis stood up, grabbed his backpack, and sa
