Jensen Howard
“Um, I don’t think that’s your dad. Maybe you’re mistaken,” Mom replied. Something heavy seemed to hit my head, and I sat frozen for a few moments, trying to process what Mom had said.
“That’s Dad. Let’s follow him, please,” I begged. I didn’t want to show Mom what Dad was doing. But I was curious about what he was doing at the hospital on my birthday. And not that I didn’t care about Mom’s feelings, but I wanted to know the answer. And to get that answer, it seemed like I had to see Mom get hurt.
I’m sorry, Mom. I need an answer to my question.
Mom parked the car a few meters away from Dad’s car. Before getting out of the car, Mom wiped her teary eyes, then took a small mirror and checked her appearance.
“Mom, I’m sorry. If my request is too much, let’s go home,” I said
