Chapter Fifteen
(Sky)
It should have been automatic.
The hug. The way I reach for him every morning before school, brush his hair back, press a kiss to his forehead. Always, every day. My ritual. My reassurance. My love made visible.
But that morning… I didn't.
I froze.
I watched him gather his bag, ready to leave, and I realized something. He's seventeen. He's bigger than he's ever been. His shoulders wider, his expression sharper. That boy who used to cling to me for warmth… isn't mine anymore. Not entirely.
I wanted to hug him, yes. My heart screamed for it. My body ached for it.
But I stopped.
Because last week, last month, last year… every time I hugged him, he flinched. Every time I kissed his hair, he pulled away. Every time I called him "my heart," he cringed.
I didn't want to make him feel smaller, embarrassed, ashamed. I wanted to protect him from me.
So I stayed still.
I smiled instead, a soft, careful smile. "Have a good day, baby."
He didn't answer. Didn't even glance my way.
I watched him walk out the door. The familiar echo of his sneakers on the steps felt heavier, more permanent.
All day, I replayed it. The hug I didn't give. The love I held back. The pain of knowing that the boy who once needed me endlessly now needed space… from me.
I went through the motions at work. Cooked, cleaned, washed, scrubbed. Every task a distraction from the ache in my chest. Every action a reminder that even when I love him loudly, sometimes love isn't wanted.
By night, I sat on the edge of the bed, hands pressed to my face. My body was exhausted. My heart… shattered in a quiet, secret way that only mothers understand.
I whispered into the dark, "I love you, baby," even though he wasn't there to hear it.
Because I couldn't stop.
And because some day, maybe too late, he'll remember that even the days I didn't hug him, I never stopped loving him.